Chapter 22: The Night Aldric Chooses

The summons arrived on parchment that smelled faintly of cedar — Aldric noticed this because he noticed everything, and because the smell was wrong. The Gold Cloak administrative offices used tallow candles and kept their correspondence in damp-warped shelves; cedar meant private stores, private means, the specific fastidiousness of a man who believed the details of a thing revealed its character.

He had been in his office since the fourth bell, reviewing patrol rotations for the following week, when the courier knocked. Young, unfamiliar face, wearing a stable hand's roughspun rather than livery. Gone before Aldric could call him back.

He read the letter twice.