Felix had packed before Lyra saw the bag.
He had packed sensibly, which he felt should count for something. Clothes beneath the instrument case. Primary intake contacts wrapped separately. No enormous device that had seemed essential only while sitting in a workshop. The certified packet lay on top, where he could reach it without emptying his entire life onto a road.
Lyra looked at the bag.
“Who takes the next witness review?”
“The estate has people for that now.”
“Who?”
“The independent office.”
“Which person?”
