CHAPTER 50: BETWEEN THE SPIRES

The rear quad felt like a work yard when people used it right. Ropes coiled on pegs. Buckets lined a wall. A chalk board listed jobs no one wanted and the times they would be done anyway.

Lyra ran the commoners’ council at a short table with a ledger and a bell. She sat straight, spoke plain, and kept her eyes on the work, not the people.

"Shift changes during audits," she said. "Two runners per spire. Label coils by lane. Refuge intake keeps the line clear even if nobles want to perform. If someone interferes, you mark their name and send it to me. You don’t argue. You don’t perform back."

Hands went up. Requests were short. A new pair of gloves. Two ruined aprons. A cracked cart wheel.

"Approved," she said to most. "Log it," she said to the rest. When it was done, she rang the bell. "Fifteen minutes rope and first-aid clinic in the yard. Thank you."

I kept my part simple. No speeches. I showed a Prusik wrap on a rope hung from a tree. "Pinch the tail," I said. "Dress the knot. It should slide when you tell it to and bite when you load it."

Gareth played the patient with a sling. I showed a fast field wrap for a shoulder. "Support, not strangulation," I said. "Do not over-tighten. You’re not trying to punish the joint. You’re trying to carry it so it can go home."

Pelham handed out clean strips and did not roll his eyes. He tied one sling himself. It held. He looked at it like it mattered that it held. That was enough growth for one morning.

"Reports," I said at the end. "When something goes wrong, say what you saw, not what you felt. ’The tooth was dull, third from left.’ Not ’the anchor was angry.’ If you don’t know the name, point and show."

They laughed a little, in the right way. Lyra made three notes and did not look at me like I had performed. She kept the pencil moving. When the group broke, she came over and gave one small nod.

"Useful," she said. "Keep it simple like this."

"Will do," I said.

In the tool shed, the bench felt like a good idea waiting for hands. I laid out thin ribs from a creeper’s spine, shaved them to slivers, and set them in a shallow arc. Leather film for wings. A hinge cut from a small joint, pinned with wire. The Bone Moth did not look like much. That was the point. Paper-thin. Quiet. Made to slip through gaps where Hollow could not fit.

I breathed on the count the Compass taught me. Four in. Hold two. Roll three out. Internal settled. I touched the thread only at the joint, not at the tips. "Wake," I said.

The Moth lifted a hand’s width, held, swayed, and settled on the back of my hand. Light. Silent. I let a small smile happen. "Again," I said. It lifted, slid a palm-width forward, and returned on command.

"Ten seconds," I told myself. "Then down. No fuzz."

I set the Moth by the Lantern and ran a staggered test. Lantern hush on. Sapper tap for three tiles. Moth lift for eight seconds. Lantern off. Sapper rest. Moth down. The leash stayed clean. No buzz in my fingers. No tug in my sternum.

"Forty-five seconds total," I said. "Staggered holds."

A small shoe scuffed the doorway. Gareth leaned in. "You look like you’re carving letters in the air," he said.

"Trying not to," I said.

"Cael’s at the yard," he added. "Asked if you wanted two rounds."

I pulled the shed door to and followed him out. Cael stood with a practice blade and a calm face. We touched blades. No talk, no show. He pressed for timing, not power. I answered with Step, then Set, then Slip, letting Anchor keep my heel honest. I did not win. I lasted longer. I landed one clean point when he changed beat on purpose to see if I would chase. I did not chase. His eyes approved without smiling.

"You’re cleaning your beats," he said.

"Trying not to admire them," I said.

"Good," he said. "Admiring is how you get hit."

We stopped before the fun started. He clapped my arm once and left without a speech.

Ariadne waited by the workshop door with a clipboard and a neat line of tasks. "Return the borrowed slot from last month," she said. "Submit a report on today’s audit in plain language. Two paragraphs. No guesses."

I handed her the key card to the slot. "Returned."

"Good," she said. She took the audit slate copy I had already written. Two paragraphs. Facts only. She read each line. Her pen ticked three small boxes on my restitution sheet. "Hours credited."

"Thank you," I said.

She did not say ’you’re welcome.’ She said, "Do it again tomorrow," and walked away. That was her version of kindness.

On a walkway near the yard gate, Seraphine matched my pace without asking. White hair like snow at noon. Amethyst eyes calm and bright.

"Campus watches," she said. "Thrive carefully. Noise turns to knives."

"Change methods," I said. "I’ll help you fix damage. My offer stands."

She smiled the way people smile when they are a room of mirrors. "You do love conditions, Armand."

"I love results," I said.

She dipped her head and left before the conversation had a chance to turn into anything we would regret.

Back at the bench I checked the Moth again. Ten seconds. Down. No buzz. Hollow watched from the beam and clicked once, maybe approval, maybe jealousy. I ruffled the bone at the back of his neck. "You’re still the clever one," I said. He clicked again and pretended not to enjoy the lie.

I packed for the night sweep. Lantern. Sapper. Moth in a small tin lined with felt. Wedges. Two clean bags. Chalk. A short line. No flares. No lights that sing.

When I stepped out, Pierce’s notice was tacked to the board by the arch. I read the roster.

Cell One: Armand Valcrey. Lyra Faewyn. Mira Kade.

Cell Two: Cael Veyron. Ariadne Valcrey. Rhodes.

Float: Liora Anselm. Dorian Kest.

Under that, in Pierce’s tight hand: "Resin signature expected. Cold tools only."

I touched the tin with the Moth and felt the thread hum soft and ready.

The wind shifted over the ridge and carried a breath of iron-pine through the arch. It was faint and then gone. Like a hand brushing a sleeve in a crowd.

We would be under the spires again soon. The ducts would be narrow and mean. The work would be quiet. That was fine with me.

I walked toward the sheds to meet Lyra and Mira. The Lantern rode light in my palm. The Moth slept in its tin.

Night would not be quiet. But we would be ready to hear what it said.