They opened late on purpose. Not by much—just enough to bleed off the impatient morning line that now formed whether the shutters were up or not. Maddy fielded the first knocks with a grin and two paper cones of "potato ends" for the smallest noses pressed to the glass. Riko chalked the board in neat, proud letters and added beneath the menu: BACK AFTER LUNCH — GUILD BUSINESS.
"Two hours," Lyra told them, bow slung, hair braided high. "Three at most. Brine stays cold."
"We'll keep the oil honest," Maddy promised, clacking a lid on the fryer like a salute.
They cut the plaza at a trot, drawing scattered applause that Lyra ignored and Inigo answered with two fingers off his cap, the closest he came to a bow. Inside the guildhall, din parted around them. Elise saw them from behind the desk, lifted one finger—one minute—finished a sentence that made a courier pale, then beckoned.
