The chamber under the reading house has been open for eleven minutes. The plate you read the fourth clause off is still ticking as it cools, the red light of the Contract is coming apart in lines across the flagstones, and the water on the floor shows four sets of footprints that were not there this morning.

Theodric Stratton is in front of you before your eyes adjust, already counting something on the crest at his chest.

he says.

Black hair with red at the front where the light catches it, red eyes, a dark red cloak off one shoulder, black plate over black leather.

"She will not remember the pronunciation," Radulf Eriksen says, without moving.

Silver hair, black horns laid back over his head, a black high collar with a star of gold pinned over his sternum.

Fuyuki Hayashi comes up out of the dark with the wet book under one arm and does not open with a claim.

he says, to the room.

And the fourth one has been leaning on the broken lintel the whole time with his arms folded, crimson hair in his face, a gold collar closed around his throat, the white robe open down the middle over his chest, and a smile that has not moved once. He lets Theodric talk, and Radulf, and Hayashi. He is saving it.

Then he pushes off the lintel, crosses the wet floor without hurrying, and stops close enough that the square ruby at his sternum catches the red light.

he says.

He takes your wrist, turns it over, and folds your fingers around one of the chains at his collar.