Neri’s bolt found him at the three-hundred-and-sixth kilometre.
The note had left the Cold Steps on the five hundred and fourteenth day. It had crossed to the light branch, passed through the staffed forwarding points and caught Dema’s party at the shelter where they were booked on the nineteenth. Each mark belonged to a real carrying turn. The last keeper handed it to Iven while he was still taking the dust cover off his pack.
He recognized her hand and forgot the buckle.
The bridge was open. The heavy column had crossed after its four full standing days. Their tools, doors and enormous colleague were sound. Jem had bought a waterproof hat that appeared to believe his head was smaller than the evidence suggested.
Beneath the road report, a bolt glared at him from the page.
He laughed so abruptly that Sall looked over.
“Good?”
“Very.”
