Teodor counted the arch before anybody let him through it, because the arch was the first thing in the Hold that he could count from the outside.
There were forty-two stones in it. He counted them from the saddle of the pony, which was too big, with the reins gathered in both fists and his knees against the blanket his mother had folded over the withers so that his legs would not go numb. The stones were grey and sharp at their edges, and each had a mark on its face, a small cut in the shape of a letter he did not know, and he counted those too. Some of the marks were the same. Some were not. He decided the different ones must be from different masons, and he was going to ask about it, if anybody let him.
The river gate was shut when they came up the slope. A man on the wall above it was looking down at them. The man had a broad face and a dark cloak, and beside him was a woman in a green wool dress with a shawl over her shoulders, and beside her a thin, sharp person with a slate, who turned the slate round as Teodor watched and wrote something on it quickly and then rubbed it out with the side of her fist.
