Daniel poured Jonathan a glass of water.
Jonathan accepted it with both hands and took a cautious sip.
“Food?” Daniel asked.
“Eventually. Please don’t describe any.”
Mara opened the bathroom window a little, then returned the damp towel to the basin. The room had become ordinary enough that Lindiwe found herself looking for evidence of what they had done. A mark on the carpet. Something displaced.
There was nothing.
Vale had moved away from the bed. He stood beside the desk, leaving more space between himself and the artefact.
“Did you know that could happen?” Daniel asked.
“No.”
The answer came promptly this time.
Vale looked at Lindiwe.
“I could feel you asking.”
“You weren’t answering.”
“I noticed.”
She lowered her eyes to the object in her lap. Without the connection, his discomfort was harder to read. She remembered how easily she had moved through it, how certain she had felt that she could go further.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she said.
“You didn’t.”
But he had not sat down again.
Mara noticed that too.
“I think we’ve had enough for tonight.”
Jonathan raised his glass slightly.
“A motion I wholeheartedly support.”
Daniel called reception and arranged food to be sent up. While he spoke, Lindiwe wrapped the artefact in the cloth Jonathan had brought from the caves. Its glow vanished beneath the folds.
She kept it beside her.
Nobody suggested taking it away.
By the time the trays arrived, Jonathan had recovered sufficiently to object to the amount of soup he had been given.
“That’s what you said you could manage,” Daniel reminded him.
“I said something light. This appears to have been prescribed.”
Lindiwe laughed, then winced as the movement caught her shoulder.
Vale looked towards her, but she was already adjusting the cushion behind her back. He let her do it.
They ate without trying to settle everything they had learned.
Jonathan asked whether the hotel could arrange a car for the morning. Daniel said he would speak to reception. Mara reminded them that Pieter would expect an explanation if they returned together.
“We’ll ask him to help us find the markings she remembers,” Jonathan said.
“And then?” Daniel asked.
Jonathan looked at the wrapped object beside Lindiwe.
“Then we’ll have to be careful.”
It was the first thing he had said about the following day that sounded entirely certain.
Vale arranged a room for Lindiwe and another for himself. When she stood, Mara helped her gather her things. Lindiwe picked up the artefact last, cradling it against her uninjured side.
At the door, she turned back.
“Thank you.”
Daniel was unsure which part of the evening she meant.
“So far,” Jonathan said, “you’ve been a considerably better influence on this object than any of us.”
She smiled.
Vale followed her into the corridor. Jonathan remained long enough to finish his water, then rose carefully.
“If either of you feels inclined to make another room,” he said, “do leave me in this one.”
When he had gone, Daniel closed the door. Mara was beside the window, looking out between the curtains. He came to stand with her.
Below them, a car pulled away from the entrance. Someone crossed the pavement carrying a folded newspaper. Traffic paused at the junction, then moved again.
Daniel found the sight reassuring.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
Mara considered it.
“I keep thinking I ought to be frightened.”
“Are you?”
“A little.”
He nodded.
“But in there…” She glanced back into the room. “I knew what to do.”
“So did I.”
“I’ve never had that before.”
Daniel took her hand. Nothing flickered. The window remained a window.
She looked down at their fingers.
“Perhaps we’re improving.”
“I’d like to think so.”
After a moment, she leaned against him.
They stayed there until the traffic below thinned and neither of them felt any need to speak.