The rules went up on the Arena gate before the morning bell.
A thin clerk from the Minister’s office, with ink on both fingers, nailed the sheet to the post himself. He did it with four nails and a small hammer, and he checked each nail twice. Then he stepped back, looked at the sheet, and stepped forward again to straighten one corner.
Calen read it from the bottom up. He had learned that at Halvane, where the lines that mattered were always set at the foot of the page, after the seals and the thanks.
Behind him the class stood in a loose row on the road. Hoff had marched them to the gate at the second bell, and he had not said why. He did not need to.
The whole of Ostrivane seemed to be reading the same sheet that morning. A second copy had gone up on the Keep door before dawn.
Two grey cloaks stood at the far end of the post. They were reading it aloud to one another, their lips moving, and neither one looked up.
“Read it, Instructor,” said Hoff.
“The clerk should read it.”
