He had looked around the room, in the pale half-shadow shed by lights and stars outside: at the table and chairs, the bucket, the plates and pans, at Tanner’s empty bed. (working late again). Even swaddled in shadows, there was nowhere for anyone to hide, and Shekel could see that he was alone.

And yet he had felt as if he was not.

Shekel lit a candle. There were no unusual sounds or lights or shadows, but he kept thinking that he had just a moment before heard or seen something-again and again, as if his memories were outpacing him, reminding him of something that had not yet happened.

He went back to sleep eventually, and woke the next morning with only a vague sense of the foreboding he had felt. But the next night, the same sense of intrusion came with dusk, long before he had gone to bed. He stood-with a concentrated, silly stillness-looking about him vaguely. Had those clothes been moved? That book? Those plates?

Shekel’s attention switched rapidly from one object, one drawer or collection or pile of things, and the next, his eyes moving across them, exactly as if he were watching someone move through the room, touching or rummaging in each place in turn. He grew angry and afraid at once.

He wanted to flee, but loyalty to Tanner kept him in those rooms. It made him light the lamps and sing loudly, and cook expansively and quickly until Tanner returned-mercifully, before the late evening, when the sounds outside faded away.

To Shekel’s relief and surprise, when he broached the subject of his strange intuitions, Tanner reacted with interest and seriousness.

He looked around the little room and muttered carefully. "It’s a peculiar time, lad." Exhausted as he was, he raised himself and followed the route that Shekel described around the room. He picked up the items he passed, carefully checking them. He hummed and rubbed his chin.

"I can’t see a sign of nothing, Shekel," he admitted. His eyes did not relax. "It’s a peculiar time. There’s all manner of types trying all manner of things at the moment-there’s lies and rumors, and Jabber knows what. Thus far, those who’ve problems with Garwater and the project ain’t spoken of it too loud-that’ll come later, I shouldn’t doubt. But maybe there’s some who’re trying other ways of undermining things. It ain’t as if I’m a bigwig in this, Shekel, lad, but I’m known to have gone to the island, and I’m known to be helping build the bridle. It might be someone’s made their way in here to try to… I don’t know… undermine things. To look for something to strengthen their side. As if I’m stupid enough to keep any plans here.