The doors opened at noon and the academy let the public in.
Soren stood at the edge of the Class Z exhibition and watched a season of quiet corridors turn into a floor full of strangers.
They came in as crowds do.
Slow at first, in ones and twos, then all at once when the ones and twos decided it was safe.
Booths ran the length of the main hall.
Ability showcases on raised platforms.
A combat exhibition ring at the far end where upper-class students threw sanctioned techniques at each other for people who had paid to watch.
The pack was where the grid had put them.
Maren on the demonstration floor, close to the ring, a fire showcase billed as a taste of Class Z's contribution.
Dani at the information booth with her terminal.
Joan at the reception threshold, greeting.
Selah two floors up already, standing in the center of a cold hall she'd been building since dawn.
Soren worked the floor.
He did it the old way.
