The [Warp Gate] bloomed in the central reading hall of the Vraven royal archive, and the war of paper barely broke stride.
Quinlan stepped through with Ayame on his arm. The nearest clerk saw the light, hugged his tray to his chest, and kept walking. The hall had adapted.
Black Fang had walked through ahead of everyone, and by the time the gate closed behind them she was already deep in the stacks, in the wing where the crown kept its files on the continent's criminals. Hers occupied most of a shelf.
She pulled her own dossier without asking anyone, opened it against one arm, and read it unhurried, grading the crown's intelligence for accuracy. The aisle emptied of clerks in under a minute. Authorization had not been sought. The archive elected not to bring it up.
"Stop arriving like that," said Alexios from behind a desk that had annexed two of its neighbors, without looking up from what he was signing.
"You said that last time."
"Yes. And?"
