CHAPTER 54: GATE FOUR AGAIN (2)

We took it slow back to the landing. No one talked. Liora’s rules make sense when stone wants to trick you. We passed our chalk marks and checked we hadn’t missed a smear. Nothing new. The corridor felt like a held breath that finally let itself go.

At the threshold the wardline still glowed white, but now I could see a hairline through it. Thin as a thread. The Lantern showed a tiny resin smear on the outer tooth face, left side—fresh.

Liora rubbed it with the edge of her nail and held the shine to the Lantern. "Schedule," she said to herself. "They’re testing for timing."

"Daily?" Cael asked.

"Maybe. Maybe every third change. We’ll know when we know." She looked at me. "Armand, log ’tooth face—outer left—thin smear, minutes after trail discovery’ and underline the time."

I wrote it. Boring. Precise. Liora handled the exit like a surgeon leaving a room: no rush, no drama. At the arch she turned to the wardens. "Hold two at the mouth. No lantern spill. If anyone without a task crosses the line, send them back and say my name."

We stepped through. She handed the lockbox to the senior warden, made him say "received" out loud, and watched him carry it to the spire base like it weighed something.

At the base we ran the chain like she taught: bag to tray, tray to ledger, ledger to lockbox, witness, seal. Cael signed as team witness. The senior warden signed as receiver. Liora initialed each line. She didn’t talk about suspects. She didn’t let us. "Markers, not theories," she said again. "We don’t build cases with feelings."

We headed toward the quad. Boots on stone. Evening voices near the dorm arches. A bell somewhere counted a number that didn’t matter. My arms felt used, not shaky. The Lantern’s cold faded from my palm.

Mira jogged up, breath quick. "You got something?" she asked.

"Satchel," I said. "Badge-ring, shims, resin vial. A box sealed."

Her eyes flicked to Liora’s face.

"Not here," Liora said. Mira nodded. She understood lines and why they matter.

Cael fell in beside me. "That spike," he said quietly. "Short. Sharp."

"Just to break rhythm," I said. "Not a choke."

"Good. Save the choke for open ground."

We reached the board. Pierce was waiting with a slate. Liora put the lockbox under his hand. He didn’t open it. He signed the ledger and sent a runner to the vault.

"Any hits?" he asked.

"Markings," Liora said. "Inside work. Someone who knows pins and how to wipe fast."

Pierce’s jaw worked. "We’ll keep it quiet."

"Do," she said.

Lyra crossed from Refuge with a stack of forms. She didn’t slow or ask. Her eyes flicked to the lockbox, to my Lantern, to Cael’s hands, then back to her papers. She set them down like she was ready to stay late if asked. I didn’t say anything. She didn’t need thanks to do her job well.

Gareth waved from the fountain. "Soup’s still hot," he called. "If you don’t eat, you fall over."

"Two minutes," I said.

Seraphine watched from the library steps. Calm posture. Careful mouth. Her gaze touched Liora, the lockbox, then me. She gave a small smile without teeth. It looked like patience and plans.

Liora turned back to us. "You did well," she said. "You kept it cold. You didn’t chase. You didn’t talk." Then, to Pierce: "Schedule an extra patrol on Four’s upriver sluice. Quietly. Same eyes, same hour, three days."

Pierce nodded. "Done."

She looked at Cael and me again. "You two—cold kits on you for the week. If a bell goes sideways, I want you within two turns of any gate. Same rules as Six. No flares. No heroics. No dead kids."

"Understood," Cael said.

"Understood," I said.

We started to break. A warden jogged from the far arch, hand high. "Saint!" he called. "Four’s upriver sluice flickered again. Same resin on the tooth face."

Liora didn’t sigh. "Someone is testing our hours," she said to Pierce. Then to us: "Sleep with your boots near."

’They’re on a clock,’ I thought. ’So are we.’

Gareth thrust a bowl at me. I took it. Hot, salty, simple. He sat on the cart tongue, shoulder bumping mine. "You look less like a ghost," he said. "Good sign."

"Lantern helps," I said.

"Soup helps more," he said, and slurped like a man making a point.

Lyra came by with two first-years trailing her. "Splice lesson," she said. No fluff.

I set the rope across the cart tongue. "Pinch the tail. Dress the knot. It should slide when you tell it to and bite when you load it." They fumbled. Fixed. Did it again. Lyra watched their hands, not their faces, and signed my restitution sheet when the knots held. Her ears went pink for one breath when our eyes met. She looked away and told Gareth to stop talking with his mouth full.

Mira passed with Pierce, both headed toward the vault. She had her slate and three questions written already. She didn’t ask them yet. Good. Liora likes things in order.

Cael stood a little off, quiet bag at his feet, eyes on the east arch. He didn’t look tense. He looked ready. When our eyes met, he gave a short nod. I returned it. No speeches needed.

Seraphine drifted down the library steps and matched my pace for two strides. "Busy season," she said. "Contractors talk. Donors listen. Be careful where you point findings. Gates are politics as much as stone."

"Change your methods," I said. "I’ll help fix what can be fixed. The offer stands."

"You do love conditions," she said, and glided on like silk that never snags. She was still the same. I had already decided what to do with that.

Pierce pinned a notice to the board with two firm thumbs. "Convoy Under Crosswinds in two days," he read for the crowd that was already reading. "No rune-lamps. Points for coordination, restraint, simple fixes. Unsafe discharge is a penalty."

Aldric made a face he didn’t mean anyone to see. Pelham stared at the word restraint like it was new. Gareth grinned at me. "Your kind of day."

"We’ll see," I said.

Liora spoke one more time, voice even. "Cold kits close. If a bell goes wrong, move first, talk later."

We nodded. She left with Pierce, already writing the next list of assignments in her head. Dorian’s silhouette waited under an arch like a column you don’t notice until the roof doesn’t fall.

Night slid over the quad. The air cooled. Somewhere near Gate Four a faint line of iron-pine rode the breeze and vanished. My Lantern clicked off. The leash hummed steady—Marrow and Hollow quiet in shade where they belonged.

I went to coil rope at the rack. The simple jobs are good when the big ones multiply. The line slid clean through my hands. I tied two splices for practice and cut the tails neat.

"Sleep with your boots near," Gareth said as he passed.

"I will," I said.

We all would.