The hall of the Hask Keep was long and cold, and it smelled of old wax and wet wool. The thirty had been put down on the benches along the north wall, with the Keep’s blankets over them and their boots lined up under the seats. Most of them were asleep before the lamps were lit.
Calen had not expected them to sleep. He had expected them to lie awake, listening for the sound of a door.
They did not. Anni Vask had curled on her side with her plait tucked under her cheek, and her breath came slow and even.
Joss Mell slept with her back to the wall and one hand under her chin, as if she were holding her own face on. Hetta Ords was the only one awake. She lay on her back with her eyes open and her lips moving very faintly, and Calen knew without asking that she was counting the rafters.
Dorran sat at the head of the long table with the Board’s rules open in front of him, and the thirty folders stacked at his left hand, and a lamp at his right.
He had not slept either. His eyes were red at the rims, and his hands were ink-stained to the wrist.
