The curfew bell rang at ten. It was a single, flat note that signaled the locking of the dorms.
The Ministry guards didn't trust locks. They chained the handles of the main doors from the outside. I heard the rattle of iron through the wood of the West Dorm entrance.
"They're sealing us in," Gareth whispered. We were in my room, sitting in the dark.
"They're trying to," I said. "But they don't know the building."
I went to the window. The courtyard was swept by searchlights mounted on the watchtowers. The beams cut through the falling snow, stark white cones of light. Patrols marched in pairs, their boots crunching on the gravel.
"The Inquisitor?" I asked.
Lyra was by the door, listening to the hallway. "He's in the East Wing. My runner says he's checking the aura residue in the library."
"Then the tower is clear," I said.
