Words and numbers are the thresholds. Cross them and you stand inside; fail to cross, and you can only watch from outside.
The crowd quieted down.
"Lord Louis said," Pete continued, "Whoever can learn a hundred words within a week can become a recorder. The kind that wears uniforms."
When the class ended, the crowd slowly dispersed.
Lily didn't leave. She picked up a stick and started drawing on the freshly paved cement ground.
A circle, surrounded by short lines.
Pete squatted down and glanced at it: "Gold coins?"
She shook her head: "No."
She lifted her face, speaking softly yet earnestly: "That's Lord Louis. I haven't seen him, but you said he's warm, like the Sun."
The people nearby who hadn't yet dispersed stopped in their tracks.
A blind old man felt his way over to the drawing, and slowly knelt down.
Only one part of the ground was still damp.
