88: A Delayed Judgment (Complete)

Kael raised a hand and held down his hat against the gale kicked up by the landing. Two Silent Guards approached from either side, making a series of gestures before ending with the Aquila salute. He returned their thanks with signs of his own.

He would never say so outright, but he had to be honest: if anyone asked, he would admit that he liked this method of communication. Sign language was simple and direct. It accepted no euphemisms of any kind, and anyone who used it became much more efficient.

Kael Lohars liked efficiency.

The Silent Guards remained where they were and gave him slight bows. He strode into the dark cavern.

There was no dust here. His passage stirred up nothing; only his unceasing footsteps proved that he was truly moving. The dull thuds of his boots against the ground were swallowed, chewed over, and regurgitated by the surrounding rock walls, and when they emerged again, the sounds had traveled somewhere deeper.

However, the darkness shrouding this cavern was anything but ordinary. A force that did not belong to the material realm lingered here—Kael sensed it carefully, like a greedy painter studying a brand-new landscape, and the conclusion he reached was rather intriguing.

First, this power belonged to Malcador.

Second, it had lingered here for at least several thousand years. Time had altered it, and if this continued, it would soon undergo a transformation. Yet even Kael could not say what it would become.

And the Sigillites did nothing without meaning.

He was an old hand beyond measure at the game of chess. Ever since he had placed himself upon the board ten thousand years ago, every move thereafter had been deeply considered. It was impossible that he had failed to account for the consequences, yet he had