The Gatekeeper’s signal was heard. The Front Runner, the Outrider, and the Buffer moved as one. With quiet determination, they blocked the tiny glimmer of light that threatened to penetrate the walls of the Tunnel. And the Weaver wove in furious haste, as he had been weaving since the restaurant incident, closing strand by strand the gap through which the woman might have seen too many things. There was an objection. The
