Chapter 11: The Census

Tamsin Reed drove four tacks through the notice and into the arch post, and tested each head with her thumb. The paper stood white against the wet brick. Behind Ilan the yard smelled of river silt and wool steaming on sleeping bodies. He read the notice from the gate with his right hand buttoned inside his coat, where it throbbed in time with his ankle. Occupancy count under the thirty-day notice. Two bailiffs. Noon. At shoulder height on the brick, under the old tallies, Sera's chalk had a new line. Thirteen. She had written it at first light, as she had every morning, and now she stood beside it with her field sheet and read the notice twice. "Count," Tamsin said, without turning round. "Noon. Two bailiffs. Notice section two. Every alcove, every hall, every head the custodian declared." "I declared them unknown," Ilan said. "Unknown is a blank. Blanks…