According to the doctors who kept inspecting him, he was twelve years old. Roughly speaking, anyway. According to the thaumatists who kept prodding at him, he wasn’t dangerous… probably.
It was true that Csindra was Zurkanet'. Not Kanetan; she’d had to stop herself from correcting the soldier with Rook, and she was pushing enough limits as it was. She’d had enough run-ins with the Elessan military in her life, growing up in Etamara.
Rook was woken up by the grinding of the brakes on the wheels, and rubbed his eyes blearily. What was it, half past ten? It wasn’t any later than that, not with the sun cutting a beam directly into his eyes.
The first thing you remember, a long time later, is a shining crystal. It hangs above your head, reflecting the light this way and that, in bursts of color that shift and change through the prismatic glass.
Holding was crowded. Holding was full of Elessans. Holding was also full of people mad at her for “not doing her job”. All in all, Csindra grumbled to herself as she leant against the back wall and tried to avoid the glares of the Den Arden conspirators, it wasn’t a good day.