The goat had an excellent document case.
Lyra noticed this because it had just stood on hers.
“Off,” she told it.
The animal looked at her with the calm of a creature whose party had reached the correct queue. Its handler tugged the lead, apologizing, and guided it back toward a cart bearing a case of its own.
Lyra wiped the footprint from her outer cover.
Beyond the wall, Bellwater’s formal entrance shone with white stone and blue canal tiles. Banners moved over a clear walk where delegation carriages stopped beneath a roof.
Their gate smelled of wet straw.
“The invitation says honored guests,” she told the guard.
