Ysra brought both sheets back at first light. She laid them on the table in the back room, the copy request on top of the execution list, and she squared the corners with two fingers. Then she sat down across from Calen and folded her hands.
“Later,” she said.
“You said that last night.”
“I said it last night because it was true last night.” She did not explain further, and Calen did not ask her to. The lamp on the table had burned low, and there was a faint oily smell in the room, as if someone had spent a long time with a glass over a small flame.
He had a question about the seal. He kept it. She had asked him for one night, and she had given it back, and the rest could wait until she was ready to say it.
At Halvane the masters had made every student learn long lists by heart. Calen had been good at it. He had not used that skill in years. The old habit came back to him with the first line of the tallies.
“Now,” said Calen. “The lesson.”
Ysra straightened. Her back did not touch the chair.
