She had, at various points, tried to calculate the total. She had never arrived at a number she trusted.
Now she called them.
The summons went out the previous evening, and by mid-morning of the eighth day, they were assembled in the Corridor of the Winter Moon — the long, high-ceilinged passage that connected the residential wings of the palace to the central court, where the light fell in long pale bars through the high clerestory windows and the floor was pale marble, cold even in summer. The corridor was where the emperor had always received his subjects in informal audience, standing at the top of the three broad steps that led down from the elevated walkway where he had stood — where the position of height made every encounter a reminder of who was looking down and who was looking up.
Elara arrived and stood at the top of those steps, and looked down.
The silence that greeted her was the silence of children who had learned that silence was safe.
