The departure from the convent was quick, but not hurried enough to look like an escape. Elizabeth thanked Sister Maelia with all the necessary formality, promised to send Mirath's donation in medicine, blankets, and coin, and made it clear, without saying it directly, that Nera Solt should not receive new visits without warning. The sister understood. Perhaps she had already understood even before Elizabeth spoke.
Damon walked to the carriage without looking back, although he felt Nera's room like pressure against his back. It was not a direct magical sensation, nor a call like the one from the mines. It was memory that was too recent. The woman sitting on the floor, the crystals in her eyes, the broken words that still made sense. "You still do not know how to listen without answering." That bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Ester noticed, as always.
"Get in," she said, opening the carriage door.
"I was going to get in."
