The changes at the center of Kamar-Taj's power could hardly be called secret. Even apprentices resting in their beds were awakened by the noise of engineering mechs hauling heavy cargo. Yet with so few witnesses, all of whom kept their mouths shut, no one truly knew what had happened. Most Arcanists simply assumed that the tireless machines were carrying out construction work. Perhaps when they opened their eyes tomorrow morning, they would find a new training ground or a new Water Treatment Plant.
They had grown accustomed to a Kamar-Taj that changed every day, whether in civilian or military facilities. As for those Arcanist Families who knew a little of the truth, they had no choice but to swallow the secret and keep it from others. For now, it was only house arrest with cause, and both sides tacitly maintained their silence. If the reasons for punishment were made public, this would no longer be a political game but an outright clash of blades, because it would mean the Emperor had truly resolved to seize all authority for himself. The Prince was certainly not required reading for Arcanists, but that did not mean some of them were naïve enough to miss the Emperor's displayed leniency—or the severity of the crimes committed by those Aging mummies from the Arcanist Families.
That was a corrupt tendency Kamar-Taj would never permit, and it was difficult to say that disabling the library's defensive rituals had not been an act born of corruption. Even if execution did not come immediately, the purity inspection that followed would be enough to cost those old men half their lives—provided they had not truly been corrupted. Kamar-Taj's precepts were not as exhaustive as secular laws. The weighing of all punishments rested in the hands of Sanctuary deacons and the