15/03/2026 13:45

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The Tower seemed to know everything, and they probably would break up a quilting circle if the women in it could channel. None of the liveried people he saw were doing any listening. Seven or eight miles of water. In love with a man who did not know, who would send her away should he ever became aware.

Trapped in what he was watching, he had not heard her approach. He hid a self-deprecating cough behind his hand. Some would be stilled, of course—Sheriam, a few of the more prominent so-called Sitters—but only sufficient to make the rest fear putting a foot wrong again; not enough. The fog was cold as winter.