The crystal stayed lit, and Tharion sat holding it while a man he could not see looked at his wife. A garden door opened on the far end of the call. He knew what that sound was worth before it finished.
When Zaren returned, the worry had gone out of his voice. What remained was gentle, and final.
"Tharion. Duskmere's friendship is not in question. It never will be." Zaren drew an audible breath. "But an audit is a small thing for a house with nothing to hide, old friend. Cooperate fully, and it passes over you like weather." The warmth came back, gentler than before. "Give my regards to Ardent."
Pleasantries followed. Tharion heard himself supplying his half of them from somewhere outside his own body. Then the light left the crystal, and the study was quiet.
The capital had sent nothing: no letter, no courier, no whispered instruction.
