Mera chose the chair facing the door.
The recorder had placed it at the side of the table. Mera moved it before sitting, scraping one uneven leg across the floor.
“There,” she said.
Lyra remembered the same tone settling disputes about windows, lamps and whether her mother could reasonably call a cold supper finished.
The recorder looked at the chair, folded a scrap of paper beneath its short leg, and introduced herself as Maris Bend.
“I record the account,” she said. “I don’t decide it.”
Beyond the private room, Elli was helping the younger children find a missing shoe. Bess had claimed the seat nearest the lodging-house window. Joss had gone to ask about work in the town.
In the passage, Davin had repaired a loose hook and hung the family’s coats on it. The lodging keeper had given him a nail and asked him to mend the other one tomorrow. Davin had already found a second nail.
