The bell over Gryphon's door rang at some hour of the night that did not have a name.
"You're early," said Colwyn, from the dark at the back of the shop. "By about six hours. Have you developed enthusiasm? Should I be worried?"
Azel put the bundle down on the floor inside the door.
It was not a large bundle. He had thought about that on the walk, in a detached sort of way: how little space a person turned out to require, and how much rope.
Gryphon came out from the back with a lamp in his hand, and stopped.
The old man did not ask what it was. Azel gave him some credit for that. He stood there with the lamp throwing his shadow up the shelves, and his face did something complicated and old and tired, and then he said, quietly, "Which one."
"Lyra," said Azel. "She was watching the house. She saw my eyes."
Nobody said anything.
