The house did not calm after the south-yard fire. It changed shape and kept moving, which mattered more.
By late afternoon the key chest had already been moved twice, the birthing cloth no longer sat where Rowan had expected it to sit, and the routes between bath, stores, hall, and kitchen had been redrawn so often that even the people walking them had to think before they turned. Oda had taken command of the practical world with the offended authority of someone who considered the entire day a personal insult.
