Felix checked the onward carrier before looking for Lyra.
It was an unusually mature action, and he wished someone had seen it.
The clerk stamped his ticket, confirmed the evening departure and pointed to the ordinary waiting place. The journey to Central staging would occupy the following day and reach the approach by the next night. His seat existed. So did the time needed to travel in it.
He put the ticket where he could find it again.
Then he went to the relay review room with his travel bag, survey copies and the intact deck.
Lyra was reading a current issue sheet beside an independent custodian.
“You’re on time,” she said.
“I checked my next departure first.”
