The marina floated upon the water in neat rows of docks andslips, a human attempt to impose order upon a system that was, by its nature,always in motion. Boats drifted against their moorings, restrained but nevertruly still.
Salem appreciated the metaphor.
Satchel hanging from one shoulder, he followed the docktoward the Hierarch's houseboat. The vessel itself drew little attention. Itssignificance came from ownership rather than appearance. Somewhere within itswalls, personal space became political space, and private sanctum became theseat of Consilium business.
A distinction that the Free Councilor found endlesslyfascinating.
The Awakened built systems much as Sleepers did. Hierarchs,Councilors, Sentinels, Heralds. Titles and responsibilities layered atop areality that ultimately answered to none of them. Yet unlike the Lie, thesestructures existed by consent, cooperation, and continual effort. Theypersisted because people chose to maintain them.
As he approached the vessel, Salem noticed another arrivalalready waiting near the boarding point.
He offered a polite nod in greeting to Witch before stopping acomfortable distance away. There was no urgency in his posture. The meetingwould begin when it began.
For a few moments, he simply observed. The gentle motion ofthe water beneath the docks. The sounds of the marina. The houseboat itself,serving tonight as both home and hall of governance.


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