Sect Year 4 · seventh month · night of day 6 · Serai, the post-house room
The shutter knocked all night. The wind came up off the canal after dark, worked under the doorstep and pushed the latch out of its catch. That way, every few breaths the wood swung wide and came back against the frame with a dull clap. Down at the water gate the weights hung on their iron hooks knocked in the same wind. The hooks did not match, so the knocks did not match either, and the two sounds went on against each other until the grey began.
Lin had stopped waiting for either one to quiet. He lay on the cot with his coat rolled under his head and watched the bars of light the canal lanterns threw across the far wall. The bars moved whenever a boat moved below. They were never still.
The Wheel had not turned since the raised stone road. He didn’t need to count the nights to know it. This was the second, and each had been the same, a silence thick and patient, the kind that would wait for a man to stop being afraid before it said anything at all. He was afraid. He didn’t try to pretend otherwise. There was no one in the room to pretend for.
