The lodging yard was still dark when Calen came down the back stairs. The Arena lamps had gone out an hour before, and the crowd had gone home with them. Only one lantern burned at the gate, and Ear sat beside it on an upturned crate with his chin on his chest.
Calen did not wake him. He crossed the flags with a candle stub in one hand and a tin cup in the other, and the stones were so cold he could feel them through his boot soles.
Nell was already at the wall. She had her back against the stone and her knees drawn up under her coat. She had been awake for some time.
He could tell by the way she sat, very still, with her hands loose in her lap.
“Sir,” she said.
“Yes.”
“You are early.”
“You are earlier,” said Calen, and he set the tin cup on the flat rock at her side.
