Shuo was woken by the noise in the street, irritating enough to make him frown-the cries of breakfast vendors, the rumble of wheels over paving stones, children chasing each other and shouting. It all drilled into his head at once and dragged him out of his dreams.
He lay still, staring at the ceiling. Lightspeed Thinking had already started running automatically, instantly pinpointing every sound: the cries came from the third stall on the corner, the rumbling followed the frequency of wooden wheels rolling over stone, and the children were taking two steps a second, fifty meters from the inn.
Three seconds later, he casually pushed all that useless information into the background, not bothering with it.
He turned his head toward the opposite bed. The blanket bulged in a heap, with a mess of silver-gray hair sticking out. He did not need to think to know that Sai was still asleep.
Shuo slowly dragged himself upright, gathered a few tiny particles of light at his fingertips, and shook them to dispel his drowsiness.
Lightspeed Thinking kept running, feeding all kinds of information into his head-Sai was breathing twelve times a minute, in a light stage of sleep, and probably about to wake up; he had turned over three times last night, the last time at four in the morning, when he had also edged toward the wall, as though afraid of crowding him.
He clicked his tongue, pushed the information aside, and shuffled out of bed in his shoes to wash up, his movements loose and lazy, without the slightest hurry.
When he came back, Sai had already sat up. His hair was even messier, his eyes narrowed to slits, and his head drooped. He looked like a cat that had not quite woken up, all dazed and bewildered.