The mechanical click of Isara’s iron cylinder echoed like a pistol shot in the quiet room.Kaela sat at her desk, the brass token she had taken from the dead clerk Garen resting right beside the seamless iron object her grandmother had given her. Lucien had gone to greet the arriving Alphas at the formal reception hall, leaving her with a dwindling clock and a puzzle that refused to yield."There are no seams," Voss said, leaning over the table, his eye patch shadowing half his face as he examined the cylinder. "No keyholes. If Isara gave you this as a tool, she gave you a paperweight.""She didn't give me a tool," Kaela murmured, her mind replaying the old woman's cold, calcified certainty. 'You're looking at the symptoms … The architecture will swallow you.' "She gave me a record. She said the First Line passed continuity practices person-to-person."Kaela picked up the brass courier token. It was standard Court Treasury issue, marked with the triple-crown imprint of the Sovereigns.
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