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“How much?”

“I would prefer not to discuss it.”

“You bet on my unpacking.”

“I bet badly.”

Daurek takes the declaration off the table before Ziku can lean on it. I laugh and sit at the ledge to write the two letters I have been putting together in my head. The first thanks the Karath factor and declines the position. I send a short copy of my answer for Karev. The other asks Asha when we can visit.

Both of us, I write. We can stay at the inn. You won’t have to move the furniture. I miss you, and I have quite a lot to tell you that will sound foolish in a letter.

Ziku agrees to take Asha’s letter and the factor’s refusal with today’s westbound post, and to deliver Karev’s copy locally. He returns Edrin’s declaration first, carrying it as though it might increase the amount he owes Reivaka.

Daurek leaves to finish his morning work. When he returns near midday, he is carrying a small wooden bowl.

“For the hair ties,” he says. “You lose them beside the cups.”

I take it. The rim is worn smooth, the wood darker where fingers have held it for years.

“Is it yours?”

“It was.”

“What did you keep in it?”

“Seeds, mostly. Small things that rolled off the ledge.”

He touches the shelf beside my comb, considering the space. I move the token a little to the left.

“Here,” I say.

He puts the bowl where I have shown him. I drop my hair tie into it, shake my hair loose, and turn to see whether he has noticed.

He has.

DAUREK

Reivaka finds a fig leaf among the growth at my shoulder and holds it out between us.

“How many?” she asks.

“One tree.”

“Where?”

“The little court outside Vai’s room.”

She studies the leaf. “I wondered what it would try next.”

“I have given it deeper soil.”

“Naturally.”

I take the leaf from her before she can enjoy herself further. She has come to confirm the arrangements for tomorrow’s road hearing. The bridge is open, the witnesses know when to come, and Karev has supplied the mountain-pass records she asked for. She will meet us in the courtyard after breakfast.

“Neimura has taken on the old flood ledgers,” Reivaka says. “I checked his first copies against the originals. They’re sound.”

I look at the records beside her map. For forty years, he made sure the outer groves were counted. I have not forgotten that, though I cannot give him my seal again.