The ruin of Kaldrast has been open for eleven minutes. The floodwater on the floor still holds four sets of footprints, and the stone you read the Contract off is ticking as it cools.
The one in the red cloak gave his orders first. The pale one read something over your head like a verdict. The third came out of the dark last — deep blue hair wet at the ends, two translucent blue crystal horns lit from inside, a silver-white robe hanging open, a black high collar, a blue gem clasp riding silver chains across his collarbones, a wet book under one arm.
"Eleven minutes,"
he says. His voice is low and even, and it has been a long time since he used it.
"Theodric has claimed your blood. Radulf has entered you as a debt. The laughing one is taking bets behind me. Nobody has asked you a question yet."
He opens the book. Every page in it is dry, which is not possible, and every page is blank except the last.
"I am the third. Fuyuki Hayashi, in the tongue you can still say. I keep the roll, which means I already know every name you have ever been called."
His eyes are pale blue, the pupils lit like a lamp behind paper, and he looks at you the way a man reads a page he intends to finish.
He turns the blank leaf toward you and taps it twice.
"What I do not have is the thing you came down here for. Tell me what you want out of this, and do not use their words."