Page 63

I used to measure the quiet against everything I missed. Tonight I listen for the sounds I know.

“I’ll meet Surevai,” I say. “Before Edrin comes, if that can be arranged.”

Daurek’s arm remains around me. “Tell Reivaka which day you want.”

“I was hoping you’d tell me it was a terrible idea.”

“Would you believe me?”

“Probably not.”

“Then you’d still have to decide.”

I rub my cheek against his shoulder. “You’re becoming inconveniently familiar with me.”

His mouth touches my hair. “I’ve been paying attention.”

Asha’s letter arrives the next morning, with a small bank slip folded inside it.

Ziku finds me at the writing ledge. I’ve just finished my reply to Karev: I can meet Surevai at the eastern boundary in two days, after breakfast. Reivaka has said the time is available and will arrange the safe conduct if he accepts.

Ziku takes the sealed reply and gives me the envelope from Tesseny. I give him yesterday’s letter to Asha and my answer to the Karath factor for the next ordinary post as well.

“Your sister and Tovi.”

“I can see that.”

“His writing is the part that slopes.”

I run a finger beneath the flap while he waits.

“Was there something else?”

“No.” He steps back into the corridor. “I’ll take your reply to Reivaka.”

I hear him go. Then I pull out the letter.

Tovi has written across the top.

The roof still holds. Asha says I cannot begin every letter with this. I told her you asked.

I laugh, and the sound makes the room feel empty. I want to hear him say it. I want Asha to take the pen from him and tell him to get downstairs before he burns something.

Her writing begins beneath his.

Vai,

Tovi spoke to his cousin. They’ve found us a flour seller who comes every twelve days. He costs more than Hadrin promised to charge. He also brings the flour, which has proved useful.

We’ve changed the baking days and stopped trying to supply everyone from one order. The oil seller makes her own arrangements now. She still comes in to complain about them.

You asked whether we were managing. We are.

The bank slip falls into my lap. It records a transfer to the account the market opened for me. Twenty silver. The payment I sent with my first letter.

I look back at the letter.

The money is out of the tin. We returned your payment and told the bank not to forward any more. Keep it for yourself.