Elias did not answer at once. He studied Lucavion instead, for the tell that would say this was a price meant to come down: a glance toward the blank space still marked Conditions, a flicker of the earlier humor, some alternative offered before Elias had finished refusing the first.
None came.
Lucavion settled further into the chair and let his attention drift to the window, the posture of a man who considered this round finished either way. If Elias pushed, he would simply leave, without resentment and without the appointment. Continued pressure, Elias understood, would not lower the price. It would only end the meeting.
He changed the question instead of repeating it.
"If the Academy records no destination, what does it record?"
Lucavion looked back from the window. "That I left."
Elias waited.
"When I'm supposed to be back," Lucavion added. "And when I actually come back."
"Nothing else?"
His fingers shifted against the chair arm. "Nothing useful to someone following me."
