Suddenly, from the stair's top, a harpoon-straight old man appeared. He hurried down, his white hair spiking out in all directions. Reaching the bottom, he whirled around, darting black eyes to every person in the room. "All right," he said. "I've received the message. I've received the message. And it's time."
Alter whispered to Tel, "That's Geryn."
"Are we all here?" the old man demanded. "Are we all here now?"
A woman at the counter snickered. Suddenly Geryn turned toward Tel, Alter, and Rara. "You!" he demanded. His pointing finger wavered so they could not tell which of the three he meant.
"You mean him?" asked Alter, pointing to Tel.
Geryn nodded vigorously. "What are you doing here? Are you a spy?"
"No, sir," said Tel.
Geryn stepped around the table and looked at him closely. The black eyes were two sharp spots of darkness in a face the color of shipboards gone two winters without paint.
"Geryn," Alter said. "Geryn, he isn't a spy. He's from the mainland. And Geryn, he doesn't have any papers, either. He stowed away."
"You're not a spy?" Geryn demanded again.