The north wall was the only place in the Hold where Idrin could still hear the Caul. The river came down from the high country in a long grey hush, below the Lowgate roofs and the Lantern Ford causeway, and at dusk it made a sound like a page being turned very slowly in another room. He had stood on the parapet to listen to it every evening since the spring. He had not told anybody why, because the reason was small and he was not sure it would survive being spoken aloud.
The Crown’s envoy stood beside him. She had come up the wall stair without being asked, carrying her book under one arm and a folded grey letter in her other hand, and she had leaned on the parapet as though she had leaned there every evening of her life and did not expect to be asked to stop. She did not speak. Neither did he. For a while there was only the river, and the bell of a goat somewhere down the slope, and the scrape of a Watch-boot on the stone behind them as Ysra came to the top of the stair, counted the steps out loud, and went down again without interrupting.
