Vin stopped. Her fingers—made far more sensitive by the tin she was burning to help her eyesight in the dark cavern—brushed against grooves in the plate’s surface. She knelt, leaning close, to find a short inscription carved in the metal, at the bottom, the letters much smaller than the ones up above. Be careful what you speak, it read. It can hear what you say. It can read what you write. Only your thoughts are safe. Vin shivered.
