Elias dipped his quill one last time. He looked at the child in the glass, a bright, unquantifiable spark.
So we gaze.
"What?" Vance snapped. "Is the General’s son in the pass?" numeric gazer
The child was a numerical paradox. If the child lived, the equation of the war shifted. The numbers began to dance, the rigid structure of the 'six' dissolving into a chaotic swirl.
He turned back to the obsidian mirror. The sickly yellow numbers of war were fading, dissolving into the black stone. The anomaly—the child—remained glowing for a moment longer, a bright, impossible symbol that looked suspiciously like a zero and a one intertwined. Elias dipped his quill one last time
The department of the Numeric Gazer was located in the sub-basement of the Royal Observatory, accessible only by a staircase that seemed to spiral downward far longer than the building’s architecture should allow.
"Gazer," Vance said, his voice low and dangerous. "If the village must burn to secure the iron mines, the numbers must show it. Give me the final sum. Is the victory assured?" The numbers began to dance, the rigid structure
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He leaned closer. The numbers in the mirror were shifting, the six beginning to fragment. To a layman, it looked like a smudge. To the Gazer, it was a tear in the fabric of fate.