Wards and the Watchers, but something slipped through. Someone did. The lyrium plot's long uncovered, its planner pulled up by the roots. And still, he doesn't buy it: That room with the rift, the one that wasn't on any map, not written into the archive. The Necropolis is old. It changes, shifts. Records are imperfect,

But someone must've known. Something would have.

"'M with the Chantry," So are the Mortalitasi, after a fashion. It's different. "Anchor took me outta the March."

Lifts his palm. Chantry, yeah, and hands that have swung a blade. Put two and two together. If Cedric hasn't used his title, that's half respect.

(It settles funny on his tongue lately. A little like a clot.)

"Riftwatch wants to help," In Nevarran, at last. It's thicker than his Trade, nearer to the city lanes above. "Can't do it blind. Someone knows the spirits here, knows the people, that's a steady pair of eyes."