The summons arrived on a Thursday, tucked under his dormitory door before he woke up — a single card, heavy cream stock, the school's crest embossed at the top in ink the color of old bruises. The handwriting was copperplate and even, each letter sitting precisely at attention:
*Mr. Voss — I would be glad of your company at tea, Friday at half past three. My office is on the administrative floor, east stair, last door. — A. Vane, Headmaster*
Elliot read it twice, turned it over, found nothing on the reverse. He set it on the windowsill against the glass. Outside, the East Tower stood in early morning fog, its upper windows dark, its stone wet and particular in the gray light. He looked at the card. He looked at the Tower. He picked the card up and put it in his inside pocket next to Maren's note, where he could feel both of them when he breathed.
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