Mina goes upstairs and into her small bedroom space, thinking. "They're watching us, you know," Jakin had said. And Inric had said "the patrollers will come looking for you." She sits on the bed, remembering other things. "I read about it in a book," Jakin had said of the ritual to call Inric, and her father had told them "there was a group of kids thieving books when I was your age." Jakin had said of his friends "they cross into the upper tier sometimes. At night." And the image of Inric's face as they had left him, drawn with pain much more than his usual irritated expression. Where is he? She rolls over on the bed and reaches underneath to pull out the device he had given her.