Silas finally told him about Verissan on the night before the departure.

They were in the small room at the back of the base, where Silas kept the cot, the chest of tools, and the lamp with the brown shade. The room wasn’t built for two, however, Alistair sat on the corner of the cot anyway, while Silas stood by the window with his arms folded, looking out at the dark.

"I am going into Verissan two days before you," said Silas.

Alistair raised his brows, "And what method? The gate would be too risky, that much I already know."

Silas nodded slightly, still not turning around. "There are seven ways into Verissan that don’t involve the gate, and I’ll be using three of them. I will be in the city before you arrive."

Alistair was reluctantly impressed. The man always thought further than necessary.

"I’ll know the city the way you’ll know it in two weeks, in two days," Silas continued. "I won’t be sleeping in the same building twice, eating in the same building twice, or talking to the same person twice unless the person actually matters."

"Markets, then?" Alistair asked, his curiosity piqued.

"Markets, lower districts, courier routes, and the small windows of the noble quarter the staff use rather than the masters. I’ll be in the parts of the city the Upholders don’t stage for. They stage for the noble quarter, while the noble quarter is the room that doesn’t have what I need."

Alistair clicked his tongue. He didn’t like the asymmetry, regardless, the logic was sound.

"Where will you sleep?" asked Alistair.

"In none of the inns you’ll know about, except for one. There’s a place on the lower west side called the Sealed Step. It’s a courier inn used by junior Caelmari grain clerks. I’ll be in and out of it every day, however, I’m not going to sleep there."

Silas finally turned, his face half-lit by the brown lamp. "I’ll leave information for you on the windowsill of the third room, second floor, courtyard side. You will check the sill every morning before sunrise."

"What kind of information?" Alistair leaned forward slightly.

"Not letters, that much I can promise. A small object, instead. The object will mean one of three things. If it’s a coin, we have a problem. If it’s a button, I have a question. If it’s a folded piece of paper, I’m ready to leave the city."

"And if there’s nothing on the sill?"

"Then the day is clear."

Alistair frowned, taking the system in. Silas’s systems were always simple, and the simplicity was the part that made them work. A complicated system fell apart when the messenger was tired.

’A coin, a button, a folded paper. He’s even thought about the order. The smallest object means the worst news.’

"And what if you find something you have to tell me in person?" asked Alistair.

"I will not."

Alistair raised a brow, "Silas, plans break. You taught me that yourself."

"I taught you that simple plans break less, and this is a simple plan. What I’ll be finding is exactly what you can’t afford to be seen receiving from me. What you can afford to be seen receiving is already inside the noble quarter."

Hearing this, Alistair exhaled deeply. He knew Silas was right, regardless, the setup made him feel the quiet discomfort of being the visible one.

"And if I find something I need to tell you?"

"You will not."

"Silas, that’s the second time you’ve cut me off with the exact same answer."

Silas turned away from the window again. His arms stayed folded, while a small line crossed his forehead that Alistair had not seen there before.

"You will not, because in the city you’ll be inside the noble quarter, watched by every Justicar’s assistant, every Wreath clerk, and every old fencing master with a grudge against your cover’s late father. I can’t reach you, and you can’t reach me. The asymmetry is not negotiable."

Alistair frowned, listening carefully.

"I’ll be in places nobody is watching, while you’ll be in places everyone is. Still, if you have something you need me to know, write it on the inside of your cuff and tear the cuff. The next time you change cuffs, leave the torn one in the room where the laundry is collected. I’ll retrieve it, read it, and burn it."

"That’s more work than the windowsill," said Alistair.

"It is. You’re the one doing it, while I’m the one who designed it. The asymmetry is for your protection."

"I am glad."

"You don’t sound glad."

"I’m glad in the small private way I’m glad about things I don’t enjoy."

Following that, Silas almost smiled, though it was barely visible, and Alistair noticed it because Silas didn’t usually let his face move at all. The lamp with the brown shade flickered, while outside the window the wind does nothing tonight.

"Silas," said Alistair, after a moment, "Why two days early? Not one, not three?"

Silas didn’t answer at once. Eventually, he spoke, his voice lower than before.

"Because I’m going to look at the building the Upholders are staging in before they have finished setting it up."

"Sable could send someone for that."

"Sable will. However, the someone Sable sends won’t know what to look for, and I will."

"Why?"

Silas looked at him directly. His eyes were as still as the dark behind him.

"Because I have been inside a building like the one they’re staging in. Nine years ago. The settlement was inside what is now Upholder territory, and it had a building in it that is the building they’re setting up in Verissan."

Alistair’s eyes widened. ’A building that old, in territory that wasn’t even Upholder yet? That doesn’t fit any timeline I know.’

"I’m not going to tell you about the settlement," Silas continued. "I’ve told you everything I’m going to tell you about it. I’m going to look at the building because it is one I’m not entering again without preparing for two days first."

He let the line sit, refusing to soften it.

Alistair did not press, regardless, his jaw tightened. He understood, sitting there in the small room, that Silas had just told him something about Verissan he hadn’t told him in nine full months of acquaintance.

Eventually, Silas spoke again, still not turning back to the window.

"Alistair."

"Yes."

"There’s going to be a moment in the city when you can’t tell whether I’m in the room with you or not. You’ll feel it, and it will feel like something has gone wrong, however, it will not be a thing that has gone wrong. It will be me."

Alistair’s grip tightened on his knee, "Understood, then. I’ll feel for it but I won’t search."

"Don’t. The looking is what will give us both away."

Alistair nodded slowly, then stood up from the cot, walked to the door, and paused with his hand on the handle. He did not say goodnight, and Silas did not say goodnight either.

Just as the door closed behind him, he heard Silas speak one final time, quietly enough he wasn’t sure he was meant to hear it.

"And if I’m not at the windowsill on the third morning, Alistair... do not wait for the fourth."