The Shape of the River
Cira – Solrise
The searcher arrived just after dawn, robes pressed and uncreased despite the dust of the road. He stood before the sanctuary steps of the House of Contemplation; the inner hem of his travel-cloak was still damp with morning mist. The reed emblem shimmered faintly on his sash—subtle but unmistakable.
Brother Silas was sweeping the courtyard.
He did not stop when the searcher approached. His straw broom moved in steady arcs, brushing leave