Caldris stood at the council table with her slate, and the gallery, which had been emptying, stopped.
It was a few minutes after the vote. People had begun to gather their coats and folders; the links on the long wall were still lit, but the crews behind them were moving, turning away, getting ready for the opening. The clerk was copying the stop conditions fair. Mara was at the plate with the figure at its top.
Caldris had come in from the hearing room’s side door. She did not go to the front desk. She went to the long council table in the gallery’s middle, where the Board had sat for the vote, and stood at its head. She put her slate on the table in front of her, face up.
“I have a statement,” she said. “For the record. Before the opening.”
The clerk looked up. She put down her pen and opened the record to a new page.
“Entered,” the clerk said.
Caldris read from her slate.
She read the first sentence twice, under her breath, before she said it aloud.
