The council hall was lit for a party and arranged for a trial, and Alistair understood the difference the moment he stepped through the doors.
He counted the room the way Aldous had taught him, without ever looking like he was counting anything at all.
Crane stood near the center, back among people after his week away. He was immaculate as always, smiling at everyone and settling into none of it.
Coren Thrace, the Sworn Hand, stood in the far corner with a cup he was not drinking from.
He watched the doors, the windows, and the exits with the flat, unbothered attention of a man whose only purpose was to be standing near Aldous when something finally went wrong.
Idris Hale, the Vow, lingered by the entrance with a slim ledger no one had asked him to carry.
However, Mira Solenne was not present at all, and Alistair found her absence more unsettling than her presence would have been.
