Jian’s former instructor recognized him before the gate clerk did.
“Can other people close your cases yet?”
Jian looked down at the sample case. Its lid sat properly against its seal. The latches had been checked before loading, after loading, and by Tamsin when Felix tried to put his cushion on top.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then your travels have improved you.”
The instructor took the manifest to the clerk rather than waving the visitors through. Jian waited while the declared tools were checked against the cases. Somewhere beyond the yard, a furnace breathed hot air through a high vent. The smell of heated metal reached him with an old, immediate familiarity.
He had wanted to return with something worth showing.
Now he wanted the clerk to finish before someone opened the wrong sample beside a cart full of workmen.
