The inquiry clerk took Eli’s account out of its envelope and shook the pages level against her desk. He had numbered them twice, once at the top and once beside each paragraph. Watching her remove the staples made the precautions seem childish.
“Any corrections before these are entered?” she asked.
He looked at the first page. The chamber, the trapped workers, the cables, the device carried out through the broken access. He had written the sequence in language he thought nobody could mistake.
“Not yet.”
“Tell the panel if that changes.”
Sera stood near the public benches with her equipment case between her boots. A strap had rubbed a pale patch into her sleeve. He had asked whether she wanted her name attached to his account. She had said she was submitting her own. At the time he had thought she was being needlessly careful about a distinction the panel would barely notice.
Now the clerk carried his pages past three empty chairs to a table where Aegis counsel had already arranged a diagram of the lower trial floor.
The room smelled of hot paper and raincoats. Families occupied the first bench. Ada sat at its end, holding a folded scarf with both hands. Tomas leaned forward beside her, knees wide, looking at the panel’s chairs as though their arrival might require him to stand. Eli greeted them. Ada nodded without trying to give him courage.
