The Turn fell at midnight, in the middle of the ford fight, and Tallow was in the Great Hall with the Hearth’s relay in one ear and the sound of the Watch’s bell coming faintly down the rise through the open shutter, so that he heard the Mouth pass in the same breath that the Hollowed struck the wall.
He had the minute-book open on the table and his pen dipped and ready, and he had not moved in an hour. The candle-clock stood at its third ring. The Chamber was half empty, because half the Chamber was on the causeway with the wounded and the stones, and the other half was sitting in the cold with its hands folded and its faces turned toward the Hearth’s grey rail, where the relay’s thin voice came up through the boards like a draught. Velvet had come in from the receiving-hall with a shawl over her shoulders and her powder unbroken. Ysra had sent word from the Watch-room that she was counting the stair and would come when she had finished, which meant she would not come at all until morning.
Korrin had the Mouth by right. He had taken it at the candle-clock’s third ring with his two imperatives and his usual flat certainty, and he was the only Hand in the Hold who could take a turn in the middle of a battle without first asking whether the battle would let him.
