Chapter 130. Night’s Division

The square learned how to whisper without letting quiet run the meeting. Lists became errands; errands became routes; routes braided into a map you could carry in your mouth. The hinge held its edge where hands could admire it without being sliced. The bench kept the vessel’s ribs counting in a rhythm the null was proud to imitate. The Seat—still warmed by a child who refused to surrender furniture to titles—behaved itself as if obedience were a craft.

“Five venues at dawn,” Jules said, tracking the frost lines on the post as if they were ledger columns that intended to be honest for one night in their lives. “Hall, ferry-town, smoke yard, river post, here.”

Aria’s finger moved with her voice, placing pairs the way a tailor lays chalk against cloth. “Hesta back to the hall with the leader and the bell; Rina to the ferry; Cassandra to the yard; Lior to the river post. Seren stays. I stay. Jules—”

“I’m your bad habit,” Jules said lightly, and the hinge brightened as