"Choose," the wall said again.
Erna's left hand was slipping whether she wanted it to or not to do so.
The film had a hold of her sleeve and was climbing by small, neat pulls.
Rigel did not answer the wall.
He looked at Erna.
"Can you let go if I take the weight."
"If I let go it opens."
"I didn't ask that."
"…Yes. For a few seconds. Then I think I go with it."
Mesterica kicked another mason back.
"If you waste time on her, the Count goes. If you waste time on the Count, she goes. That is the point of the sentence."
Cynthia was already turning toward the conference room.
"I'm taking my father."
"Go," Rigel said.
She went.
The wall clicked its tongue, Pell's habit on the wrong mouth.
"You always split. We counted on that."
Rigel put the packet in Erna's tool bag, clasp shut, and shoved the bag behind her hip where the crack could not reach it without taking her whole.
"Hey—"
