The walking stick was heavier.
Brightforge had noticed on the second morning. Salla had replaced it during the night, meaning she'd carried the old one out and the new one in without waking him. At ninety-eight, that said something about her discretion or the depth of his sleep, and he wasn't sure which.
The east corridor was quiet at seventh bell. It had been quiet at seventh bell for thirty years. The administrative wing's morning traffic didn't reach this section until eighth, which was why he'd always taken his walk before the building filled. The two stairs at the landing were the same two stairs that the renovation team had considered removing four years ago, when Asheld was still alive and someone had noted that the Grand Ordinator's senior council member was walking more slowly than usual. Asheld had vetoed the removal. "If Brightforge wants the stairs gone, he'll file the form."
He hadn't filed the form.
