The gate clerk put down his pen.
“Military business goes to the west office.”
“We were told the district examiner--”
“West office.”
Behind him, the man who had stopped turning a page looked up.
“What station?”
“Sedge Toll,” Aoi said.
The man rose.
He was older than the clerk, with a leather sleeve protecting one forearm from ink. He came to the counter and examined our escort.
Then the sealed case.
Then Berden.
“Service witness?”
“Yes,” said the older of our two soldiers.
“Under restraint?”
“No.”
The man held out his hand for the outer docket.
He read without touching the seal.
“West office,” he agreed. “But ask for both registers.”
I looked at him.
“Both?”
“Military return and commercial return. Sedge was a toll station before it became a military embarrassment.”
The younger clerk shifted.
The man handed the docket back.
“Freight that changes ownership goes in the commercial book. Officers forget that.”
“Has freight come back from there?”
He glanced at the queue behind us.
“West office.”
This time, the refusal contained something worth keeping.
Stonecross was the first town in this world that seemed to have plans unrelated to dying.
Waterwheels turned below the central bridge. Barges lay three abreast against the quay, their crews shouting over the sound of timber striking stone. A woman beneath a striped awning sold bright green fruit from baskets and slapped the hands of customers who squeezed too enthusiastically.
Nobody stepped aside for the cart.
A man carrying a stack of cages informed our driver that being in a hurry did not make his wheels narrower.
The cages contained things with six legs.
I decided not to ask.
Aoi watched a pair of children run across the square with paper fish tied to sticks.
“Festival?” she said.
“River opening,” our driver answered. “First cargo after the winter shoals are marked.”
Bells rang again.
A smell of frying batter reached us.
The ordinary pleasure of it caught me unprepared.
Rook’s Watch had kitchens, children, arguments. Here there were people spending money on things they did not need to survive the week.
I had forgotten that this was an option.
Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.
Aoi was looking at a stall where an elderly woman rolled hot cakes around sweet filling.
I reached for the purse.
She caught my sleeve.
“Office first.”
“A disturbing reversal of our usual priorities.”
“I know.”
We continued.
The west office occupied a building overlooking the oldest bridge.
Its entrance bore a carved pair of scales. One pan had broken off.
I wondered whether anyone considered that discouraging.
Inside, three benches held petitioners. A man with a chicken tucked beneath one arm argued that a tax could not be assessed against eggs that had not yet been laid.
The clerk opposite him appeared to have heard this before.
Our escort presented the case.
We were directed to wait.
Aoi sat.
Berden remained standing until she said, “You’re making me nervous.”
He sat at the far end of the bench.
Pell had tied the copied evidence with blue thread. I checked it while we waited, although there was no reason for the words to have changed during the journey.
Across the room, a woman accepted money through a grille, counted it twice, and gave half back.
“Your receipt says two carts.”
“I’ve got two carts.”
“One is a wheelbarrow.”
“It has a wheel.”
“It has one.”
I began to like Stonecross.
A door opened.
“Berden.”
We stood.
The clerk looked at the rest of us.
“Berden.”
Aoi’s face changed.
I stepped forward.
“The witness has supporting parties and certified documentary material.”
“The examiner will ask for those.”
“Then we shall be nearby when he does.”
“Downstairs.”
There was no point arguing over a staircase.
We remained.
Berden went alone.
Aoi watched the door close.
Then she looked at me.
“We should have--”
“What?”
She pressed her lips together.
I had no answer either.
The office had accepted Hadran’s routing amendment. Our soldiers were still outside. Nobody had put Berden in chains.
All of that was good.
None of it made the closed door pleasant.
The egg dispute continued.
Eventually the chicken escaped.
For several minutes, everyone acquired a different concern.
District Examiner Marret received us an hour later.
She sat at a wide desk beneath a window, sorting papers into four stacks.
She was perhaps sixty. Her hair had been cut short enough that no arrangement was required. A cup of tea sat beside her elbow with a skin forming across its surface.
Berden occupied a chair against the wall.
No chains.
Aoi saw that before anything else.
Marret indicated two chairs.
“Sit. You’ve brought a serious allegation and an unreasonable amount of copying.”
“The originals seemed less prudent to distribute,” I said.
“Quite.”
She opened Lady Veyr’s letter.
Read it.
Placed it beneath Hadran’s certification.
Then she looked at Aoi.
“You knew the missing man?”
“Yes.”
“Kaito.”
“Yes.”
“Is that the name under which he served?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know whether it is complete?”
Aoi hesitated.
I did not look at her.
“Yes,” she said.
Marret drew a separate sheet toward her.
“We can enter the complete identity under restricted access. It need not appear in the public record.”
Aoi’s shoulders eased slightly.
The examiner noticed.
She noticed most things without making them occasions for display.
“And you,” she said to me. “Solvane of Aurelheim.”
“Yes.”
“What capacity?”
“Provisioner at Rook’s Watch. Companion to Aoi. Witness to Berden’s recorded statement.”
“No claim to represent a foreign government in these proceedings?”
A carefully placed question.
“No.”
“Good. I am not equipped for one.”
She dipped her pen.
“What outcome are you requesting?”
“A determination of where Kaito was sent,” Aoi said. “Whether relief was dispatched. What happened afterward.”
“And Berden’s recall?”
“That it does not remove the evidence before those questions are answered,” I said.
Marret looked at the papers.
“I can stay his onward transfer while examining a material irregularity within this district. I cannot grant him permanent protection from a valid service recall.”
Aoi leaned forward.
“The office recalling him--”
“May be implicated. I have read Commander Hadran’s certification.”
She did not sound impatient.
That helped.
“You should understand what a stay means. Time for examination. Not acquittal. Not immunity. Not a promise that the result will be the one you want.”
“And if the records show wrongdoing?” I asked.
“Then I record wrongdoing.”
“Even involving the ministry?”
Marret looked at me for a long moment.
“Would you prefer I promise to be fearless before examining anything?”
I sat back.
“No.”
“Excellent. Fearlessness produces poor clerks.”
She rang a small bell.
The door opened.
“Ask Senn to bring the signal movements for the sixth winter accounting period.”
The name moved through Aoi before she could conceal it.
Marret saw.
“You were expecting her.”
“Berden spoke to her.”
“I know.”
The examiner looked toward the door again.
“And the commercial returns,” I added.
Her eyes came back to me.
A pause.
“Why?”
“The man at the gate recommended them.”
“Did he.”
Something almost amused passed across her face.
Then she told the clerk to bring both.
Senn arrived carrying two ledgers.
She was younger than I had expected. Her dark hair was tied in a knot held with a writing stick. One sleeve had been rolled above the elbow; the other remained down.
She put the books on the desk.
Then saw Berden.
“Oh,” she said.
He stood.
Senn looked at Aoi.
The room changed.
Not because anyone announced anything.
Because she recognized the description before anyone supplied a name.
“You’re the girl,” she said.
Aoi’s hands went still on her knees.
“What girl?”
Senn glanced at Marret.
Then back.
“He said there was another one at the castle.”
Aoi stopped breathing.
“Who said?”
Senn lowered her eyes to the books.
“Kaito.”
Marret set down her pen.
“When?” she asked.
Senn opened the commercial ledger.
“After the station.”