The blood on Garran Voss's palm was no longer fresh, but Kael could still smell it.
Copper.
Clean, sharp, almost metallic enough to feel on the tongue.
He did not like the fact that his attention kept returning to it.
The house had become a registry room in the last few days—no, in the last few hours, if he was being honest. The hall was arranged into working zones now: the threshold where petitioners were being admitted in line order, the central registry table buried under route packets and witness slips, and the side wall where Joren had turned the relay panel into a commentary station with just enough authority to be annoying.
Outside, the queue had settled into a measured shape. Market line first. Workshop chain behind. River toll office with two ledger runners and a man carrying tea like he expected the house to judge it. Route holding petitioners. Maintenance factors. And at the rear, a First Meridian clerk standing stiffly with a black case and the look of a man who had begun to suspect the house was not a ruin, only an inconveniently living record.
Inside, Garran sat because Kael had told him to sit.
That was the strange part.
Not the blood. Not the packet. Not the hearing order. The fact that Garran Voss, route manager of First Meridian South Transfer, had obeyed before his face had even finished changing.
Kael stood at the registry table with the latest board packet open in one hand and the Crown Writ tucked under his arm.
Garran sat upright in the side chair, hands folded neatly in front of him, posture unusually steady, as if an invisible line had been drawn through him and tied to the house seal.
Mara looked up from the witness stack and watched Kael for a beat too long before speaking.
"What."
Kael did not look away from the dispatch log.
"Something changed."
Bren, who had been leaning over route stamp comparisons with all the charm of a man forced to audit a sewer, looked up immediately.
"That's not a helpful sentence."
Joren gave a low sound from the relay panel. "It's becoming his favorite kind."
Kael glanced down at the route log in his hand.
The pages were stamped First Meridian South Transfer. Hearing packet logged. Annex copy indicated. Board copy indicated. And at the bottom margin, in route-office hand so neat it had been meant to disappear into the paper, sat the line that had split the whole hearing into two rooms.
BOARD COPY — PUBLIC HEARING
ANNEX COPY — ROUTE ANNEX CHAMBER
DO NOT CROSS-REFERENCE AT STREET LEVEL
RIVER GATE STABILITY REQUIRED
Under that, a second note in the same hand.
CONTACT: OREN
AUTHORIZED ROUTE REVIEW
HOLD EAST UNDERPASS UNTIL BOARD CLARIFIES
Kael's eyes narrowed.
He turned the page slowly and read the line again, though he already knew the answer it would give him.
Mara leaned in.
"That handwriting isn't route-office standard."
"No," Kael said.
Bren's face hardened as he read over Kael's shoulder.
"It's board-clerk neat."
Vela stepped in from the wall with route slates tucked under one arm.
"That's Oren's hand."
Kael looked up. "You know it."
Vela's mouth tightened.
"Yes."
Mara's expression sharpened by a degree. "That clerk keeps touching the same packet."
Vela nodded once.
Kael set the log flat on the table.
The board had not simply sent a packet. It had split one. Public hearing on one route. Annex chamber on another. The route office had been instructed not to let the street see the difference.
That was the theft.
Not the hearing.
The location.
He looked at Garran.
"You saw this before you came here."
Garran's answer came immediately.
"Yes."
Mara turned her full attention toward him.
"And you didn't mention it."
Garran's jaw tightened by a degree. "I was instructed to deliver the packet."
Bren muttered, "That is the route office's favorite shape of lie."
Garran's eyes flicked to him, then back to Kael. "I'm not lying."
"No," Mara said flatly. "You're route-officeing."
That got the smallest twitch from the room.
Kael looked at the route case on the table.
"Open the other packet."
Garran hesitated.
Only a beat.
Enough.
Then he reached into the route case and drew out a thinner route slip, folded once and tucked under the annex-marked packet. He opened it and set it down.
Kael took it.
This copy was cleaner in one way and worse in another. Same board crest. Same dusk timing. Same hearing confirmation. But the annex chamber line was absent.
It read:
PUBLIC HEARING CONFIRMED
DUSK ROUTE OPEN
DISTRICT LIST TO REMAIN UNDER BOARD RECORD
PRIVATE ROUTE REVIEW DISALLOWED
Kael looked from one packet to the other.
Mara saw it immediately.
"One is public."
"Yes."
"One is route theft wearing a seal."
Kael nodded once. "Yes."
Bren stared at the packets with visible disgust.
"This isn't a clerical difference."
"No," Kael said.
"This is route theft."
"Yes."
The gate bell rang once.
Joren lifted his head toward the glass.
"Interesting."
Kael looked up. "What."
"We've got Prefecture at the gate."
The room shifted.
Mara's eyes narrowed at once. "Already?"
Vela's expression hardened. "Too early."
Kael's attention sharpened.
He stepped toward the threshold line and the route beneath his boots answered with a faint pulse.
Outside stood Inspector Lysa Merin in her blue route coat, rigid posture, controlled irritation, and the expression of a woman who considered the house an administrative insult. Beside her stood the First Meridian clerk Kael had already seen twice too many times.
Merin lifted her chin.
"House Viremont."
Kael answered evenly, "Inspector."
Her gaze flicked to the packets in his hand. "The Prefecture requests immediate review of the district continuity record."
Mara, without looking up from the ledger, said dryly, "Requests."
Merin's mouth tightened. "Yes."
"That sounds weak."
"It is a legal request."
Bren muttered, "That's a very expensive way to say please."
Merin's eyes flicked to him and back to Kael.
Kael looked at the blue packet in her hand.
Prefecture seal.
Annex trace.
Board reference line.
He asked, "Who routed that."
"Prefecture route compliance."
"That isn't a person."
"No."
"Then I can't ask them questions."
Merin's jaw tightened a degree. "You can ask them in writing."
Kael's mouth moved by the smallest amount.
"That sounds very Prefecture."
Merin did not look amused.
"The district is under review."
Kael nodded once. "Yes."
"The hearing has created a security burden."
"Yes."
"The continuity record must be stabilized."
Kael looked at the annex trace on the packet.
"By whom."
"Prefecture route compliance," Merin said. "With board coordination."
Mara's mouth moved by the smallest amount.
"That sounds like committee theft."
Merin's expression sharpened by a degree.
Kael held the silence for a beat, then said, "Open the packet."
Merin blinked once. "Excuse me?"
"You want the district list."
"Yes."
"Then stand in the line."
That got the room.
The First Meridian clerk outside looked briefly uncertain whether he had stepped into an office or a weapon.
Bren's head snapped up. "You're making them queue?"
Kael did not take his eyes off Merin.
"Yes."
Joren let out a low appreciative sound from the relay. "Oh, that's good."
Merin's mouth tightened. "That is not procedure."
Kael's answer came dry and immediate.
"It is here."
The hall went very still.
The line outside shifted.
The market clerk stepped forward first, route petition under his arm and a face that said he had already decided the house was now the first office that actually listened.
He placed his petition on the threshold shelf.
"Another toll packet," he said. "Market line says the hearing schedule is tied to fee spikes."
Kael took the petition and read the figures.
Three rises.
Each one aligned to hearing windows.
Mara glanced over and slid the page toward Bren.
Bren read it and frowned.
"That's not a fee adjustment. That's route extraction."
The market clerk gave a tired little nod. "That's what we thought."
Kael handed the petition to Mara.
"It can be challenged."
The clerk blinked. "It can?"
"Yes."
"What does that take."
"A public record."
That seemed to land in him harder than the office terms had.
The workshop woman came next. Soot on her cuffs, black thread pinned at the collar, the kind of tired posture that came from keeping a work line running while offices made it harder to be useful.
She set her petition on the threshold.
"We're getting relocation slips through the work schedule."
Kael took the page and read the route marks.
The workshop chain had been narrowed again. Output windows cut under "continuity review."
Mara looked at it and gave a faint dry breath.
"That's not relocation. That's a reduction with good handwriting."
The woman's mouth twitched once. "That's what we thought."
Kael handed the page to Mara.
"It can be challenged."
She slid it into the witness stack.
"Good."
The river toll factor came after, ledger tucked beneath one arm as if he expected the paper to protect him from the route system if he held it properly.
He placed his petition on the threshold and looked up.
"Is the toll part of the list."
Kael took the page.
It was.
Back-channel route adjustments. Fee resets. A station reassignment before dawn. Same pattern again.
He passed it to Mara.
She read it once and set her jaw a little harder.
"It's the same pattern."
Bren looked up. "You've seen this before."
"Yes," Mara said.
"How often."
"Enough."
The toll factor exhaled through his nose, tired and not surprised.
"Then it wasn't just our office."
Kael looked at him.
"No."
The man gave a dry little nod.
"Good. I mean—bad. But useful."
Kael answered, "Those are closer than people like to admit."
The queue outside had grown longer.
Route holding petitioners.
Maintenance factors.
The First Meridian clerk at the rear.
People who had learned that the house was a place where paper got read aloud before it got buried.
That mattered.
Joren's voice came through the relay, a little brighter now.
"Small update. The lead officer is pretending not to be annoyed."
Bren muttered, "That's because he's a route officer."
Joren nodded. "Exactly. He's bad at it."
Kael did not look away from the threshold.
The board clerk outside finally stepped forward, black-brass case under his arm, route coat stiff with the kind of polish that made a man look like an expensive complaint.
He bowed once.
"House Viremont," he said, "the board requires confirmation of the district list."
Kael looked at him.
Then at the route case.
Then at the annex trace under the seal.
He did not move immediately.
"You want the district list," Kael said. "Publicly."
The clerk blinked. "Excuse me?"
"You can ask in public."
The clerk's mouth tightened. "This is a board matter."
"No," Mara said quietly. "It's a district matter."
The clerk looked briefly offended by the existence of a person with enough certainty to say that in a room with route packets on the table.
Kael turned toward the registry table and looked at the two hearing copies.
The public order.
The annex chamber order.
He said quietly, "One of you read them aloud."
Bren looked up sharply. "What."
Kael didn't glance at him.
"Read them."
Bren's expression sharpened with irritation, but he did it. He took the annex-marked copy first and read the inserted line aloud, voice tightening the more he spoke.
"'Route Annex Chamber ready. River Gate stability required. Witness appendix to be presented in person. House custodial pair to be transferred under joint authority.'"
He stopped.
The room went still.
Mara's eyes narrowed.
Vela's face hardened.
Inspector Merin outside leaned in slightly, as if realizing the room had become more dangerous now that the words were out loud.
Kael turned to Garran.
"Read the board copy."
Garran did not hesitate.
He took the cleaner packet and read it in a flat route-office voice.
"'Public hearing confirmed. Dusk route open. District list to remain under board record. Private route review disallowed.'"
That made the difference impossible to ignore.
The room tightened around it.
Bren looked from one packet to the other.
"That's not a revision. That's a split."
"Yes," Kael said.
Mara looked at the annex-marked copy and then at the handwriting beneath the seal.
"That's route theft."
Kael nodded once.
"Yes."
Vela stepped closer, eyes narrowing at the route lines.
"Oren's hand."
Kael looked at her. "You know it."
"Yes."
"Then say it."
Vela's jaw tightened.
"That's Oren's hand."
The board clerk outside the gate stiffened.
Inspector Merin's face hardened a degree.
Kael folded the annex-marked copy and set it beside the public one.
The capital had not simply sent one packet and tried to correct it later. It had produced two versions of the same hearing and hoped the house would never compare them in public.
That was the theft.
Not the hearing.
The location.
He looked toward Garran.
The route manager still stood with his route case under one arm and a face that now looked a little too blank to be comfortable.
Kael asked, "Who touched the packet after seal."
Garran answered immediately.
"Route office dispatch."
"Name."
A brief pause.
"Oren."
There was the name again.
Kael looked down at the dispatch log and the blood on Garran's clasp.
The blood had dried in a narrow smear along the metal edge of the case clasp. It wasn't much. It was not, in any ordinary sense, important.
Except that it was.
Kael stared at it a beat too long.
Copper.
The smell reached him then, faint but clear enough to tighten the back of his throat. He frowned slightly, not at the blood but at the way his attention had started to pull toward it as though something in him had recognized the mark before he did.
It felt like route pressure.
Not exactly.
Closer.
Like a seal waiting for a hand.
Bren, busy frowning over the packets, missed the change entirely. Vela did not.
She looked at Kael, then at Garran's hand, then back at Kael, her gaze sharpening by a degree.
Kael looked down and, before he could think better of it, touched the blood with his thumb.
A thin line.
The copper smell sharpened instantly.
Then he brought the same thumb to his mouth and tasted it.
The room went still in a way that wasn't legal anymore.
It was immediate.
A route line snapped taut somewhere inside him—not painful, not even especially dramatic, just precise. A thread pulled through the blood and into place. The sensation was so clear that he nearly missed the name rising behind it.
Loyal Tame.
The phrase settled into his thoughts with the certainty of a route seal clicking shut.
For one beat, he understood nothing except that the room had changed around him.
Then Garran's posture shifted.
Not against his will.
Past it.
Kael looked at him.
"Sit."
Garran sat.
The hall froze.
Bren's head jerked up so fast his ledger nearly slid off the table.
Mara stared at Kael for one sharp beat, then at Garran.
Joren, at the relay, went completely silent.
Inspector Merin outside the gate had gone still.
The First Meridian clerk looked like he had forgotten the shape of his own face.
Kael felt the route-thread settle through Garran in a way that was almost offensive in its efficiency. Not panic. Not fear. Alignment. Something immediate and absolute that made the room feel cleaner in the wrong way.
He didn't like how easy it felt.
He liked even less that it had worked.
Mara's voice came quietly, almost under her breath.
"What did you do."
Kael did not look at her immediately.
He was looking at Garran, who sat upright in the chair as if the instruction had become a point in a ledger rather than a command.
Then Kael answered, equally quiet.
"Something new."
Mara's expression changed by a degree. Not alarm. Attention. The kind she used when she suspected a thing was dangerous but still had to be measured before she would decide how to feel about it.
Kael looked down at Garran.
"Who wrote the annex chamber line."
Garran answered at once, voice flat and clear.
"Oren."
"Who ordered the split."
"Office above Crown."
"Who told dispatch to keep the east underpass open."
"Route office."
Bren stared. "He's answering instantly."
Kael kept his face still.
"Again."
Garran did.
"Who told you to deliver the board copy and keep the annex copy moving."
"Route office dispatch."
"Who touched the packet after sealing."
"Oren."
"Who wanted the district list moved under joint authority."
"Office above Crown."
The room went cold.
Mara's eyes narrowed sharply.
"There it is."
Bren let out a small, shocked breath. "He said it."
Kael had not meant to use the room like this. But now that it was happening, now that Garran's answers came clean and exact and stripped of route-office polish, he could feel the line settling into him.
Not just control.
Something more intimate than that.
A thread.
A lock.
A loyalty so clean it made his skin prickle.
He did not know where it came from, only that it had awakened at the taste of Garran's blood and the certainty of command.
Loyal Tame.
The name was ugly.
Useful.
And dangerous enough to make his stomach go quietly tight around the edges.
Mara had gone very still.
She reached out and touched the inside of his wrist, a brief grounding contact that said more than the room would ever hear.
Kael looked at her.
Her expression remained composed, but her eyes were alert in a way he understood.
"What did you do," she murmured again.
Kael did not answer right away.
Because the true answer was not a thing he wanted to say before he had learned its edges.
Something new.
He looked back at Garran.
"Stand."
Garran stood.
The room changed at that.
Not dramatically. Structurally.
Bren looked at him as if someone had pulled a thread in the air and all the papers in the room had stopped pretending they weren't connected.
Mara watched Kael for a beat too long, then said quietly, "Useful?"
Kael looked at Garran standing at the table.
"Yes."
Her gaze sharpened by a degree.
"Then keep it away from me until you know what it is."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Joren, finding his voice again, sounded half-impressed and half-terrified.
"Okay," he said over the relay. "That is not normal."
"No," Bren said faintly. "No, it is not."
Vela looked between Kael and Garran with a hard, measuring gaze.
"You just took the room."
Kael's attention returned to the packets.
That was the point.
He had not fully intended it, but the result was already plain.
He did not feel triumphant.
He felt dangerous in a new way.
"Garran," he said.
"Yes."
"Tell me, plainly, what Oren wanted."
Garran did not blink.
"Oren wanted the public hearing copy to be routed through the house while the annex copy moved separately to Route Annex Chamber. He said the district list had to be presented under joint authority before the hearing chamber could lock the record."
Bren muttered, "That is disgustingly organized."
Mara's mouth flattened. "That's the capital for you."
Kael looked at Garran.
"Did the board approve it."
"No."
"Then who did."
"Oren."
"Who else."
A pause.
Then Garran answered, "Office above Crown."
That made the room still again.
Kael looked at the annex trace on the packet.
There it was.
The route theft.
The chamber split.
The office above Crown.
The board clerk Oren.
The Annex overlay.
And now Garran, under whatever strange route-thread Kael had just awakened, saying it cleanly enough for the room to keep.
He turned the board packet over once and set it beside the annex-marked copy.
One public.
One hidden.
He could feel the thread between Garran and him now, faint but present. Not a moral thing. Not emotional. Something more exact and much more unsettling. If he focused, Garran's attention came with him. If he let the command sit, Garran remained aligned.
Kael did not know the boundary yet. That would take time. But he understood enough to know that the thing had answered to blood, to a command, and to his intention.
That was enough.
Bren, still staring at Garran, spoke with visible effort.
"You didn't ask him twice."
Kael looked at him.
"No."
Bren swallowed. "That's disturbing."
Kael's answer came dry and immediate.
"Good."
Bren stared. "Good?"
"Yes."
"Why is that good."
Kael looked at Garran, then at the route logs, then at the public hearing slate on the registry table.
"Because now the room has one more witness."
That landed harder than it should have.
Mara looked at him then, truly looked, and he could see the exact moment she realized he had changed the shape of the room in a way she hadn't seen happen before.
Not fear.
Not rejection.
Attention.
That mattered more.
The gate bell rang once.
Joren's voice came in from the relay, unusually low.
"Uh. Small but important update."
Kael looked up. "What."
Joren sounded less amused than before.
"The second route manager outside is moving."
Kael turned toward the gate glass.
The second route manager—Hale, though Kael had not bothered to ask the name yet—was walking up the route platform toward the gate with a sealed packet in his hand. Same First Meridian coat. Same route posture. Same too-clean efficiency.
Too much sameness.
Too much paper.
The house had become a point where the route office was splitting itself in public.
That was useful.
And dangerous.
Kael looked back at Garran.
"Do you know him."
Garran turned his head toward the gate without hesitation.
"Yes."
"Name."
"Hale Vorn."
Kael held his gaze.
"What is in his packet."
"The annex copy."
"Read it."
Garran didn't even glance away from Kael when he answered.
"'Route Annex Chamber ready. River Gate stability required. Witness appendix to be presented in person. House custodial pair to be transferred under joint authority.'"
Bren looked up sharply. "So that's the one."
"Yes," Vela said grimly.
Mara's jaw tightened.
"That's the split packet."
Kael nodded once.
"Yes."
He looked at Garran.
"Did you know the house would see it."
"Yes."
"Did Oren know."
"Probably."
That one word mattered.
Kael filed it immediately.
He looked toward the gate.
Outside, Hale Vorn had stopped at the threshold of the route platform and was waiting with the sealed annex packet under one arm, looking toward the house as if he expected to be let in.
Kael felt the pressure of the room change with the thought.
This was no longer simply a hearing problem.
It was a route problem.
A public record problem.
A split authority problem.
And now he had Garran seated under his command in the middle of the registry room with the route log open in front of him.
Mara came to stand beside Kael, close enough that her shoulder nearly touched his.
She looked at the route log, then up at him.
"What did you do."
He answered quietly.
"Something I haven't named yet."
Her expression changed by a degree. Not approval. Not alarm. Something in between.
"Useful?"
Kael looked at Garran, then at Hale outside the gate, then at the route line that had split itself in the hall.
"Yes."
Mara's gaze held his for a beat.
Then she said, dry as ever, "Then keep it tidy."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
Bren, still processing the fact that Garran was now answering with impossible speed, muttered, "I'm going to need a much better explanation later."
Joren, from the relay, made a rough sound that might have been amusement if it hadn't been edged with nerves.
"You know," he said, "I think I'm finally understanding what the house does."
Bren gave him a look. "And?"
Joren sounded delighted and uncomfortable at once.
"It makes office people nervous."
That got a very short, very dry look from Mara.
Kael looked at the dispatch log again and then at Garran.
"Read the line about the east underpass."
Garran obeyed immediately.
"'Hold east underpass until board clarifies.'"
Kael looked at the route stamps.
"And who changed it."
"Oren."
"When."
"After sealing."
"Why."
Garran answered with the same clean certainty.
"To keep the house from seeing the split in public."
Kael nodded once.
That was enough.
Not because it was a full confession.
Because it was the structure.
The route office had hidden the annex chamber line, fed the public hearing copy through the board chain, and told dispatch not to let the difference surface at street level.
That was the mechanism.
He didn't have to guess anymore.
He had the route log.
He had the packets.
He had the annex trace.
He had Garran seated and answering.
He looked up at Inspector Merin outside the gate.
The inspector's face was now hard, controlled, and annoyed in a way Kael found more useful than polite uncertainty.
"The Prefecture will note obstruction," she said.
Kael looked at her.
"No."
Her brow tightened. "No?"
"You'll note the route split."
That made her pause.
Kael kept his voice level.
"Publicly."
The inspector's mouth flattened. "And if I refuse."
Kael's answer came dry and immediate.
"Then you're in the wrong line."
A beat of silence.
Then Joren gave a low appreciative sound over the relay. "That was rude."
"It was correct," Mara said.
Kael did not look away from the gate.
The board clerk outside shifted and looked briefly as though he had realized too late that the house had become a place where records got made in front of people who could object.
Good.
That was how the house would keep becoming more than a ruin.
Not by convincing offices.
By forcing them to be seen.
Kael lifted the dispatch log.
"Garran."
"Yes."
"Stand by the registry table."
Garran stood there at once.
That was the thing Kael did not fully know how to think about yet.
The route manager's movement came as cleanly as a route signal. No resistance. No delay. The room did not feel obeyed in a crude way. It felt aligned. He disliked how effective that was.
He liked less that it had been triggered by blood.
He brought his thumb up and looked at the faint red mark still drying at the side of it.
Copper.
There was something route-like in the feeling, like a lock he hadn't known was waiting to turn.
Loyal Tame.
The name rose in his thoughts again, fixed now. Not a feeling. A mechanism. He didn't have time to explore it fully, but he knew enough to recognize its shape.
It was power.
And it wasn't clean.
Mara's voice came quietly from beside him.
"What are you thinking."
He answered automatically, "Unfortunately."
That got the faintest movement at her mouth.
Then, more quietly, she asked, "Did it hurt."
He looked at her.
The question was simple. Direct. Practical enough to cut through the noise.
Kael glanced at the red line on his thumb and then back to her.
"No."
She studied his face for a beat and then gave the smallest nod.
"Good."
She didn't ask what he meant by it. Not yet. She was waiting until he knew himself. That, more than anything else, made him trust her.
The gate bell rang again.
Joren's voice came back over the relay, a little tighter now.
"Interesting."
Kael looked up. "What."
Joren sounded less amused than before.
"There's another carriage."
The hall shifted.
Kael turned toward the gate glass.
Outside, beyond the petition line and the inspector's blue packet, a second First Meridian carriage had stopped at the route platform. Its brass ribs caught the route light. Its door stood open.
And stepping down from it with a sealed route case under one arm was another route manager in a dark coat.
Not Garran.
A different one.
Same office shape. Same route posture. Same composed confidence.
Too much sameness.
The room tightened around the sight.
Garran, seated in the hall, went very still.
Kael looked from the second route manager outside to the dispatch log on the table and back again.
The route office had split itself.
Maybe intentionally.
Maybe because the line was already stretched too far to keep one packet honest.
He did not know which yet.
But he knew the route was divided.
That mattered.
He looked back at the registry table, at the public hearing slate, at the district list, at the two route copies side by side.
Then he looked at Mara.
She had already read the split in his face and was watching him with the same calm, sharp steadiness he trusted more than any formal seal in the room.
She said quietly, "You're thinking."
Kael answered automatically, "Unfortunately."
"That's good."
"Why."
"Because now there are two of them."
Kael looked at the gate again.
One route manager inside.
One outside.
One blood on the clasp.
One public packet.
One annex chamber note.
He could feel the copper thread in the room now, quiet and sharp, stretching between Garran's blood, the route log, and the way the room seemed to listen to him when he spoke.
It was useful.
It was dangerous.
He still didn't know what to call it.
He only knew that Garran had answered him without hesitation, and that the room had changed around the answer.
Kael turned back to the registry table and laid the public hearing slate flat beside the witness stack.
Then he said, with enough calm to make the whole room pay attention:
"Bring him in."
The gate opened.
And the house prepared to swallow its second packet.