The candle was low. The scroll was open. Tali placed the brass key from the very first page onto the letters where he had just counted to forty-seven. He understood now. The Torah was a living signature. Three hundred thousand letters, guarded three thousand years, beating with one name. Grandpa closed the book gently. 'The Torah carries a signature pressed into the order of its consonants,' he said — the same words he had said at the beginning. Tali looked at the key and knew the door was open.