The projections dimmed on the slate.
For a while no one spoke. The numbers hung in the air anyway—grain diverted weeks earlier than reported, barge routes quietly altered, muster orders that no longer looked defensive. The civil war was not coming. It had already begun its opening moves.
Clara closed the slate and slid it back into her coat. "If we are going to use merchant houses and independent channels, I need names and paths that still answer to coin instead of banners. That will take most of tomorrow."
Lara nodded once from the window. "Then tomorrow is for the leak. Tonight is for not getting found."
The swordsman raised his flask in a lazy salute. "I will take the boring watch. Someone has to make sure the empire does not burn down while the rest of you brood. Consider it my contribution to family harmony."
