A clerk caught Veylan before the instructor raised a hand.
He held out a narrow receipt, keeping it flat between two fingers. Veylan glanced at it, then back at the clerk.
"Medical standby?"
"Acknowledged. Both relay stations answered. Authentication matches."
The instructor checked the mark at the bottom. "Keep the route clear."
The clerk tucked the slip under the bout sheet. An attendant beside the doorway moved a bench farther against the wall; behind him, a folded stretcher leaned within reach. I looked away from it and found Aiden watching Veylan, his wooden sword down by his knee. We had both been left standing while a few words came back through a message crystal. Nobody at the receiving end had seen my hand shake.
Veylan came to the long side of the court. The assistant called our names, more loudly than he had at the stairs. A few of the conversations along the rail stopped.
