I brought the theory to Veylan at dawn.
Not because dawn was strategically optimal — because I hadn't slept, and the theory had spent six hours eating through my brain like acid through paper, and if I didn't tell someone soon I was going to start having conversations with Nihil about probability matrices, and the sword's opinions on probability were not conducive to mental health.
Veylan was in his office. Already awake. Already working. The man's relationship with sleep appeared to be adversarial.
"The Cult didn't just plant Malcris to weaken the Void wards," I said, sitting without being invited because the information outweighed etiquette. "They planted Mira as well. Different timeline. Different mechanism. Same target."
Veylan set down his pen. The brown eyes sharpened.
"Explain."
