(Alash Vortex POV)
Once it was properly light, I stopped pretending I might still sleep.
I had lain awake rehearsing a conversation once before, in Sanctuary. It hadn't improved with practice, and I didn't recommend it.
My eyes felt as though someone had sanded them. The pull behind my breastbone had settled overnight into something smaller and duller, like a bruise you only notice when you press it.
The book lay closed on the table where I had left it. I opened it.
On one page there was a line to Penelope with no name under it. The third letter was true when I wrote it. Two pages further on was this week's report for Theoran, which was meant to be considerably longer than usual and so far consisted of the date.
Between them, a whole night's work came to nine words and a date.
I had asked the System about Daphne at three o'clock, and again at five, in case three o'clock had been wrong. I asked once more now.
'Daphne.'
