Cessy had read the invitation three times before deciding which part of it annoyed her most.
The promised payment was false, the transit seal belonged to a dead firm, and Kenneth was still using the wording she had once copied for him.
She folded the paper into her sleeve as Lucan checked the borrowed watchman's badge pinned to his coat.
"You don't have to come within reach of him," he said.
"He'll know me before he sees the badge, I want someone there who hears what I actually agree to."
Lucan let his hand fall from the badge.
"Then I hear all of it."
They entered the western cistern passage together, leaving two field scouts at the last dry junction with instructions to answer his whistle.
Water ran beside the raised walkway, its current disappearing beneath the intake grates farther inside the mountain.
Cessy followed the scrape marks on the floor, counting the places where heavy crates had turned before the corridor widened.
