Lilith's smirk warmed by a breath. "Done."
They moved through the rest of the way, and seasoned players lay out a board: no flourish, no story, only pieces, and where they should stand by morning.
They named three cities where the cults had smiled too widely at festivals. They called two supply hubs where the books had matched too perfectly for too long.
They named one teleport lattice whose anchor had been "repaired" every month for a year. They set quiet watchers, not soldiers.
They assigned whispers to be placed in the right ears at the right hours so that when the hand reached, the hand would land on a switch already waiting to be flipped.
The Matron kept her tone playful and her questions cutting. "What do you do if the weed sits under a friendly window?"
"Close the shade," Lilith said. "And lift the floorboard while they nap."
"What if the weed sings a prayer a sister might enjoy?"
"Change the key," Elowen said. "Make the song too high for their throat."
