At twenty past eleven, Tavin had three room-check sheets and the eleven-o’clock return showing one thousand people still to be received.
Newer acknowledgments were already reducing that thousand. Households were on the approaches, guides returning from the back lanes, staff carrying the last records that did not belong in empty rooms overnight.
He kept the count in front of him anyway.
A thing was not finished because the uncompleted part had become small enough to imagine.
The upper route lead came in with her lamp nearly out.
“Back stores clear. Seven households came with us. Two work crews have their first marks and are staying on the restoration watch.”
“Upper rooms?”
“Checked twice. The last people there were the sweep pair.”
