“Here we are,” the Warder said. “The center post of the thirty-seventh district. Pretty shabby, isn’t it?”
Geren turned away from the door and spotted it at once. A massive stripped tree trunk, its girth greater than any he had seen, bristled with message branches. Amused, he recalled the center post Haavael had shown him in the ninth district. That one had appeared quite natural, a dead tree in a glade in the forest.
“As many postings as spines on a hedgehog.” The Warder sounded disgusted. “Anyone could tell that’s not just a dead tree. It’s good they keep it here. […] Besides, some of these busybodies actually had the audacity to post message branches here for me, asking how I know you.”
She wrenched out a single thin branch, snapped it in two, and flung it on the ground. Then she laughed, without the slightest hint of rancor.