Chapter 11: What I Remember

Mara was standing when I entered.

A cup of tea sat untouched on the table beside her. She had taken off her riding gloves, but her cloak remained fastened at the throat, rain caught in the wool along one shoulder.

For a moment, she only stared.

Then her eyes moved past me to Dain.

“You found her.”

“She’s employed here,” he said.

“Does her family know?”

“No,” I answered.

Mara looked back at me.

I held the notebook against my stomach. I had imagined this conversation on the stairs, rehearsing explanations until every one sounded like an excuse.

Now I could remember none of them.

“I asked to speak to you.”

“About the eastern marker?”

“About Tomas.”

Something tightened around her mouth.

Dain set the leather case on the table.

“I need to examine these in the workshop. If you want me to remain—”

“I’d rather speak to her alone,” Mara said.

He looked at me.

I nodded.

Only after the door closed did I notice how loudly the clock was ticking.

---

Mara did not sit until I did.

She chose the chair opposite mine, leaving the table between us.

“You look different.”

I glanced down at my borrowed dress and brown boots.

“I washed.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

I waited.

She looked at the notebook.

“What’s that?”

“What I remember. I wrote it down last night.”

“After you heard someone else had been hurt?”

The question struck where she intended.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t think of writing it before?”

“I had records before.”

“Then you should have given them to someone.”

“I brought them to the hearing.”

Her fingers closed around her gloves.

“Your father burned one piece of paper.”

“The gate order.”

“You said it was the original.”

“It was.”

“What else did you have?”

“My boundary log. The inspection entries. The times I passed the northern markers.”

“Where are they?”

“In the wardhouse.”

“Why didn’t you bring them?”

I looked at her.

“They took my chalk at the gate.”

Mara went still.

I wished I had said it differently. Less bitterly. As though I were comparing a lost tool with her dead brother.

“I wasn’t allowed to collect my things,” I added.

She looked toward the door.

Then she pulled her chair closer to the table.

“Start with what you know.”

---

I told her about Celeste outside my workroom.

The request to open the eastern passage. My refusal. The gate I had barred before starting my northern rounds.

Mara interrupted twice to ask about the time.

I could give her a range. I could not give her the minute.

“Why not?”

“Because I hadn’t reached the first marker to record it yet.”

“So you might have left earlier.”

“Yes.”

“Or later.”

“Within that range.”

She watched me closely.

“The patrol found you north.”

“After the alarm.”

“Did you hear it?”

“No. A rider came.”

“What did he say?”

“That Celeste was outside the boundary and the eastern watch needed the passage held open for the rescue.”

“Who was the rider?”

I opened the notebook.

There was a blank beside that question.

“I don’t know his name. Young. A bay horse with a white mark above the left eye. He wore a patrol coat.”

Mara took a pencil from her pocket.

She wrote the description on the back of an envelope.

I watched her do it.

For years, I had explained faults while people walked away from me. Someone writing down an answer felt almost as strange as someone paying for my work.

“Was Tomas with him?”

“No.”

“Had you seen my brother that evening?”

“No.”

“Did you see what attacked him?”

“No.”

Each answer seemed to take something from her.

When she set down the pencil, I wanted desperately to offer more.

I kept my mouth closed.

---

Mara unfolded a patrol roster.

“His assignment was changed.”

I leaned forward.

The original line placed Tomas on the north road. Someone had struck through it and added the eastern passage.

Different ink.

No explanation.

“Do you recognize the writing?” she asked.

I studied the shape of the letters.

“No.”

“Look properly.”

“I am.”

My voice came out sharper than I intended.

Mara’s eyes lifted.

I forced my hands to remain on the notebook.

“I don’t recognize it. I won’t give you a name because you need one.”

She leaned back.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she folded the roster again.

“Captain Venn had the watch.”

“Then he should know.”

“He’s been transferred.”

“Where?”

“That’s one of the questions I’m asking.”

I remembered looking toward the council doors, waiting for a man who never appeared.

My father saying everyone necessary had been questioned.

“Did he give a statement?”

“Not one I’ve been permitted to read.”

The words settled between us.

Mara looked at the tea, then pushed it farther away.

---

“Were the wards failing before the festival?”

“Yes.”

Her expression changed.

“Then your father—”

“The foundation needed replacing. I reinforced it. That isn’t the same as the line being open.”

“You’re certain?”

“I checked it before I left for the northern rounds.”

“Could you be wrong?”

The question hurt.

It was also a fair one.

“About damage happening after my inspection? Yes. About where Tomas was attacked? I only know what the rescue patrol told me.”

I looked down at the notebook.

“But the gate was opened by order. I saw the paper afterward. Celeste signed it.”

Mara pressed her thumb against the seam of a glove.

“She says you promised it was safe.”

“I refused her.”

“She cried when she told us.”

“I know.”

Her gaze snapped back to mine.

I could not soften that answer for her.

I had seen Celeste cry too.

---

The clock struck the hour.

Mara flinched at the first note, then looked annoyed with herself.

I turned the notebook toward her.

“You can read it.”

She did not touch it immediately.

“Can I take it?”

“No.”

The word surprised us both.

I steadied my breath.

“You can make a copy of what concerns the festival. But I’m keeping the original.”

She looked at my hand resting on the cover.

“All right.”

She read slowly.

When she reached the page about the chestnuts, her eyes stopped moving.

“He said your coat cuff was torn,” I said. “He asked about thread.”

“His coat.”

“Sorry. His coat.”

I closed my eyes for a second.

Mara rubbed beneath her nose with one knuckle.

“He caught it on the kennel fence. I told him to stop climbing over it.”

A small, terrible smile moved across her face and disappeared.

“He always said the gate took too long.”

I looked at her hands instead of her grief.

“He was kind to me.”

“He was kind to everyone.”

“Yes.”

The answer seemed to satisfy her more than anything else I had said.

---

When Dain returned, Mara had copied two pages.

He brought the emergency records and a short list of questions about the eastern foundation. She answered what she could. Twice, she admitted she would have to ask Hale.

I stayed quiet until she described where the rogue had entered.

“Did the lower latch close?”

“It caught. The seal didn’t.”

“Then tell Hale not to rely on the gate bars alone. The holding pins need checking after that much force.”

Dain added it to his list.

Mara watched him write.

“You’re not returning with me?” she asked.

“No.”

“But you know the line.”

“I also know I wasn’t permitted to finish warning them before they sent me away.”

Her mouth tightened.

“Beck didn’t send you away.”

“No. He didn’t.”

I could feel Dain beside me, waiting.

“That’s why I’m answering the questions I can,” I said. “I’m not going back.”

Mara looked at me for a long time.

Then she gathered the papers.

“I can’t promise to conceal that I saw you.”

My fingers curled beneath the table.

“I know.”

“If I report this conversation, your family will know.”

“Then report what I actually said.”

She tucked the copies inside her coat.

“I intend to.”

---

At the door, she stopped.

“I haven’t decided what happened.”

“I didn’t expect you to.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think you did.”

She left with Dain’s questions and the copied pages.

I remained beside the table until the front doors closed.

My notebook lay open where she had read it.

I had kept the original.

Somewhere beyond the courtyard, a horse started toward the gates.

By nightfall, my family might know where I slept.