Mrs. Sen's doors stood open to the cart road. Afternoon light reached across the workshop floor, catching the brass buckles in their shallow trays and the pale threads caught beneath the benches. Henry could hear Ruth talking before he saw her. She was describing a strap a customer had brought back, holding the broken end up for Nadir to examine.
Nadir looked toward the door when their shadows crossed the floor.
"You've both finished early. I thought you were doing deliveries today."
"I was." Henry took the folded note from his pocket. "Is Mrs. Sen here? Mrs. Vautrin gave me something for her."
The woman came from behind a rack of hanging collars, wiping her hands on her apron. While she read, Nadir set the strap down. He looked from Henry to Ivo, who had stopped beside the door.
"Has something happened?"
Henry had tried to decide how to tell him during the climb. Now that he was standing there, there seemed little point in any of the beginnings he had considered.
"Mr. Sorel's here. He's at the orphanage, speaking to Mrs. Vautrin and the people from Youth Affairs. I came to say goodbye."
Nadir's hand stayed on the edge of the bench.
"Already? I thought there would be a letter first, or someone would come and tell you when."
"So did I. Mr. Besson sent me back this afternoon, and he was there."
Mrs. Sen folded the note along its old crease.
"Put your tools away, Nadir. You can finish that tomorrow."
He glanced at the work clamped beside his stool. "I've only got this side left."
"It will keep. Take your friends upstairs." She moved a tray aside to give him room. "There's no hurry to come down again."
Ruth took the strap from the bench without another word. Henry watched Nadir gather his needles, wind the loose thread around its spool, then check the bench once more before untying his apron. He had never noticed how many small things had to be put away.
The room upstairs was warm beneath its sloping roof. Nadir pushed the window farther open, letting in the rattle of a wagon on the road below. A shirt hung from the peg behind the door, and a pair of stockings lay over the washstand to dry. Henry sat on the bed while Ivo brought up a stool from the landing.
Nadir remained by the window.
"What's he like?" he asked. "You've been wondering about him for so long. Did he say what he wants you to do?"
"Lessons, mostly. He said I wouldn't have to find work to pay for them, or for living there. I'll have my own room." Henry looked around the little room as he said it. "He knows about my talent. I told him again, in case the paper made it sound better than it is."
"What did he say to that?"
"That he already knew. He didn't ask me to lift anything."
Nadir came to sit beside him. The mattress dipped, bringing their shoulders together.
"That sounds good, Henry. It does." He rubbed a mark of wax from his thumb. "I just wish I'd known this morning. I've been sitting downstairs thinking about supper."
Henry had been thinking about his deliveries. He had bought the blue book expecting to write in it that evening, perhaps show Ivo the clean pages before anyone marked them. He took it out now.
"I've brought the address. Mrs. Vautrin copied it so you could read it properly. There's room for yours too, if you want to put it in."
Nadir opened the book at the pencil. He read Sorel's name, then the lines beneath it, moving his lips over the unfamiliar place names.
"This is where you'll actually be? You won't have to go into Marécourt to fetch letters?"
"It's the address she was given. I can ask him when we get back."
"Ask him. And write when you arrive, so we know you've got there." Nadir turned the page. "I'll put this place down. I don't suppose you've ever had to write to me from somewhere else."
He bent over the book, supporting it on his knee. His writing had grown smaller since he began keeping lists for Mrs. Sen. Henry watched the name of the road appear and remembered how far away the workshop had seemed the first time they climbed to it.
Ivo leaned forward to look.
"You can send mine to the orphanage. Mrs. Vautrin will keep it if I'm working."
"I've got that one already," Henry said, showing him the first page. "I'll write to both of you."
Nadir found a scrap of paper in his box and copied the farm address for himself. He read it back to Henry before folding it. They checked every line, taking more care than the task needed.
"Tessa says hello," Henry remembered. "She was there when we left."
"Tell her I said hello too. And Bram, if he's about." Nadir put the paper away. "You'll have to tell me what everyone said when you write. There isn't going to be time to hear it all today."
Henry took the book back. He left it open across his knees.
Outside, the wagon had passed. Someone was sweeping the road, the broom scraping in long strokes beneath the window.
"I don't know when I'll be able to come back," he said.
Nadir looked at him.
"I know. I've been trying to work that out too."
"I wanted to say I would. But I don't know how far it is, or what I'll be doing. I don't want you to keep thinking I'm going to turn up one afternoon."
"I'd rather you told me." Nadir rested his elbows on his knees. "When I moved here, I thought you might stop coming after a while. It was a long walk, and you and Ivo were still working together. I thought there'd always be something else to do."
"You never said."
"I didn't want to ask every time you left." He looked at Henry. "But you kept coming. Even when you only had an hour. So I think you'll write, if that's what we can manage."
Henry nodded. He pressed the book shut with both hands.
Ivo shifted on the stool.
"I wasn't very pleased when you first told us about the farm," he said. "I kept thinking you hadn't even asked for it. I was going down to the yard, trying to get someone to let me come along, and you had a place waiting for you."
Henry remembered the strap in Ivo's hands, the quiet way he had said he couldn't get a morning carrying equipment.
"I said I would ask about you. I haven't yet. There were so many people in the room—"
"You can ask when you've settled in. I'd still like you to." Ivo rubbed his palms over his knees. "But you don't owe me something because you're going. I don't want you sitting there thinking you have to find me a place before you can tell me whether you like yours."
For a moment Henry could not answer. He had been worrying about that without quite putting words to it.
"I will tell you," he said. "Even if it isn't very interesting."
"I want to hear it anyway. You can tell me what the house looks like. And what he gives you to read."
Nadir glanced at Ivo. "You'll still come up here, won't you? You don't have to wait until you've got something to bring me."
"I can come on your afternoon off. You might have to remind me which one it is."
"I'll send word. We could go down together sometimes."
Henry pictured them taking the stairs, Nadir talking about work, Ivo looking into the shops they passed. He was glad they would have each other. The picture hurt all the same.
He tried to put the notebook in his pocket. Its corner caught in the lining, and he left it on the bed instead.
"I don't want to leave you," he said.
His voice had changed. He heard it and looked down, but the words were there now.
"I think I want to go. When he was telling me about it, I wanted to see the house. I wanted to find out what he could teach me." He swallowed. "Then I thought about getting there, and I won't know anybody. I won't be able to come here if I've had a bad day. Or sit with you after supper."
Ivo moved his stool closer to the bed.
Henry wiped under his nose. He could see the thread caught in Nadir's cuff, the pale line where the edge of his leather finger guard had pressed into his skin.
"I was so glad you were there," he told him. "When I first came. I know I didn't talk much. Sometimes I wanted everyone to leave me alone, and then when they did, it was worse."
Nadir had gone still beside him.
"You said we could do the market together. That first night. I kept thinking about it the next day." Henry's eyes filled, blurring the hands in his lap. "I didn't want to go to work. I just wanted there to be someone I could go with."
Nadir put an arm around his shoulders. Henry leaned into him, his face against the rough sleeve, and cried. After a moment, Nadir drew him closer.
"I remember," he said. "You were telling me about the drain. I didn't know what else to ask you about." His voice shook. "I'm glad you came with me, Henry. I'd have missed you if you'd stopped."
Henry could feel Ivo's hand on his back. Nobody told him to stop crying. For a while they sat crowded together at the end of the narrow bed, with the open window beside them and the sounds of the workshop coming through the floor.
When Henry sat up, Nadir wiped his own face with his sleeve. Ivo was looking down at the boards, blinking hard.
"I'll miss you too," Ivo said. "I keep thinking you'll still be there tonight, so I don't have to say anything yet. But then you won't be there some other night, and I won't get to say it."
Henry reached for him. Ivo rose awkwardly from the stool and bent to hug him, holding tight enough to pull Henry halfway off the mattress.
They stayed upstairs a little longer. Nadir asked about Sorel again, and this time Henry managed to describe him properly: how far he had to bend to get into the chair, the white hair, the great pot on the floor. Ivo told Nadir about seeing him from the doorway. They talked until Henry could speak without his throat closing, and then Nadir came down with them.
At the entrance, Henry thanked Mrs. Sen for letting them stay. She had taken Nadir's place at the bench.
"I'm glad you came," she said. "Safe travels, Henry."
Ruth lifted a hand from her work, and he waved back.
Nadir followed them out onto the road. They stood beside the scratched green door, where there was room for a cart to pass.
"Write as soon as you can," Nadir said. "It doesn't have to be a whole page."
"I think it will be more than one." Henry pulled his coat straight. "There's going to be a lot to tell you."
Nadir smiled through the redness around his eyes. Henry hugged him again, knowing how much harder it would be to let go this time. Then Nadir drew Ivo into a brief embrace too.
Henry looked back before the turn. Nadir was still outside, one hand resting on the door. He raised it when he saw them looking, and both boys waved.
They took their time going down. At the broad landing above the market, Ivo sat on the low stone edge, and Henry sat beside him. Below, people were folding awnings over their poles. A man carried a stack of empty baskets between the stalls.
Henry found the orphanage roof beyond them. He could recognize it from here now.
He rested his elbows on his knees and stayed beside Ivo until the ache in his chest eased enough for the rest of the walk. When they got up, they went down together.