It was noon when the caravan reached the tower of the water-clock. She wished she had not stood up. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost immediately it was turned out. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. She heard his voice screaming her name into the twilight as she fled, his cries trailing like banners, weaving through the breeze that had begun to gently stir the dew on the ground. ‘R-rien. “I’m ready,” said Ann Veronica, closing her microscope-box with a click, and looking for one brief instant up the laboratory. He had deliberately saved it for last. Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud.
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