Kael came to the study the following morning.
He came with the expression he wore when he had finished deciding something that had required a long time to decide, the look of a man who had been living with a conclusion for months and had finally given himself permission to act on it. He carried nothing. His hands were empty, which meant the compound was already prepared and waiting somewhere else, which meant this conversation was not preparation. It was notification.
"It's ready," Kael said.
Raze looked up from the monastery records that had arrived from Harold's administration overnight, two hundred years of documentation spread across the desk in the particular disorder of things being searched for specific information.
"The timing is right?" he said.
