Sella was sent for to the Watch-room because Ysra had not eaten in two days, and had begun to count her own breathing.
The boy who came to fetch her was white to the lips, and he would not say what had happened, only that the Watch had been sitting on the cot with her back to the wall and her eyes shut for most of a morning, and that every time anyone spoke to her she said a number under her breath, and the number was always the same, and the number was a breath. Sella picked up her bag and went. She did not run. A bonesetter who ran up a stair to a Watch-room only frightened the Watch, and the Watch was frightened enough already.
The Watch-room was a small square cell above the gatehouse, with a window that looked down on the lane and a table with a count-book on it, closed and squared to the edge. Ysra was on the cot. She had her back against the whitewashed wall and her knees drawn up under her chin and her arms wrapped round them. Her face was the colour of the wall. Her lips were moving, very slightly, in the rhythm of her breath.
