They might have expected a visitor, but they did not expect the manner of his arrival.  Most came in carriages, some on horse.  He could bear news of trouble, but he did not wear the garb of a messenger.  The sentry in the bell tower moved toward the rope that would allow him to ring the alarm, but he did not pull it yet.  The others shifted subtly, readying to fight off an intruder, if that should be the case.  One man with a salt-and-pepper beard and a dignified air took a few steps forward.  Cain was asked his business, and his writ of passage was examined, the seal inspected to ensure it was genuine.  But the papers were in order and they allowed him through without undue hassle.  If Ms. Primm and Mrs. Martinez were expecting him, then they would be in Administration, the bearded guard informed him, and indicated which building that was.  They hoped he had a pleasant day.

By the time the iron gate swung shut behind him, Amuné had made it across the yard and waited on the other side.  Her breathing indicated she’d probably run part of the way, so she wouldn’t miss him.  “I thought I’d walk with you,” she said, giving him a shy smile.  “At least to the building...I’d rather not face Ms. Primm.”  She fell in beside him, though not too close.  “But then I should be going -- I’m expected for practice.”

[@TheMinorFall]