Milan had been pacing the pavilion for the better part of two hours.
Andrion sat in a cushioned chair with his legs crossed and his cup balanced on his knee, tracking his brother's movement back and forth across the tiled floor with the resigned expression.
He didn't know what was going on and he couldn't do anything about the situation. It had been a long time since he had felt this way. For as long as he remembered, he had always controlled his emotions and dealt with things, but right now, he couldn't compose himself.
"Twenty nine days," Milan said, not for the first time.
He moved from the eastern end of the pavilion to the western end and turned and moved back. "Twenty nine days and we have received no word. No letter. Nothing from any scout or traveler who has passed near the Depths. Nothing from the camp that General Caelum established out there. Nothing."
"I am aware of how many days it has been," Andrion said.
"The Emperor gave him thirty days."
