Due had been at the table for three days without sleep, or anything close to it.
Alistair did not watch him work. Due never permitted that, and Alistair had learned a long time ago not to push it.
He came in for meals, went out for the perimeter, and came back.
In between, he sat with Elara and ran the second syllable of Marrow until it stopped requiring thought. Eventually, it came on its own, the way breathing did.
On the morning of the third day, Due stood up from the table.
He stood the way a man stands when he is not sure his legs still belong to him. Slowly, Due walked the four steps to the basin by the door, splashed water on his face and the back of his neck, then sat back down.
"It is done," said Due.
Alistair and Elara came over. They had been waiting for that line for three full days.
Due had laid the finished forms out in three groups. The first was thin, the second was thicker, and the third was a single document, sealed.
