“That is a description.”
“I didn’t know I had a Mark until Linden came to my home and hauled me to Zenith Hall. Those lines appeared during tests your Hall conducted. If your own records can’t explain what they mean, why do you expect me to?”
The only response was the reader’s pen across the paper.
Kieran shifted beside me. His breath caught, small enough that the panel might have missed it. Hale did not.
The woman at the center turned to Kieran.
“State the origin and duration of your line.”
“Astra is the origin.” His voice sounded rough from the spasm. “The line became visible during the post-reading practicum at the Hall.”
“Your Mark was already in decline.”
His fingers curled against the edge of his chair. “Yes.”
“For how long before the Tether?”
“Nearly three years.”
I had known his Mark was failing long before mine reached him. I had never heard him say how long.
The reader with the leather case opened the page in front of her. “The decline has spread from the shoulder throughthe upper chest. Fever and respiratory spasm are now present.”
She described what I had watched happen in Kieran’s room without looking at him.
“And you gave him enough medicine to move him here,” I said.
“The draught reduced the immediate symptoms.”
“It didn’t treat the decline.”
“No.”
Kieran’s hand found the edge of the table. His knuckles whitened around it. Hale’s breathing changed beside me, one slow breath drawn through his nose and released with care.
The woman from the bridge looked at Kieran. “Have you documented the rate yourself?”
“Since the decline began.”
“Those records will be surrendered to Steward Marrow.”
Kieran stared at her. “They’re mine.”
“They are relevant to review.”
“You can review a copy.”
Marrow spoke from behind her. “The rate will be measured independently. Your own record will be retained for comparison.”
Kieran went very still.
“He knows his Mark better than anyone in this room,” I said.
“Knowledge does not make his report independent,” Marrow replied.
“Because you think he’s lying?”