The conservator opened Nadir’s pack over a tray, not the clinic table. Kellan had set the tray on a cleared surface away from the waiting patients and the sink.
“Don’t separate wet pages by pulling,” she said. “The ink and paper can come away together.”
Her name was Amelie. Nora had found her through the inquiry’s records office. Kellan placed the bag on the tray and showed her the note he had made at the hatch: the pack’s bottom had touched the rising water, and another splash had reached the protective bag near the twisted door.
Amelie checked the outside of the bag, then opened it. The pack was damp at the bottom. Inside, the loose notes clung together in a thick block. She photographed their position before lifting them onto a support sheet.
“The signed amendment?” she asked.
“Separate sleeve,” Tessa said. “It stayed inside Nadir’s jacket.”
The sleeve was dry on the outside and remained sealed. Amelie checked the closure, then opened it with Nadir’s permission. The signed amendment and comparison sheet were legible. The loose notes required more work.
Sera stood beside the tray, her hair still damp from a shower at the clinic. She had been checked by the responders and released with instructions to rest. Nadir was at the hospital, where his ankle and arm were being assessed.
