“You remember how it’s usually done, my lord. Just in time. We’ve done well this season and increased the tribute by nearly fifteen stones compared to the last run. His Majesty will be pleased.”
JingYi kept silent, though her pulse quickened. Her eyes drifted toward the tarps—a faint purple shimmer bled through the weave, catching the grey light.
Alexander’s tone was flat. “Fifteen stones.”
“Give or take,” Bertrand replied. “The newly discovered veins are denser than anticipated. A stroke of luck.”
Her gaze lingered on the cargo. Something about it sat wrong in her gut.
Alexander drew a deep breath behind her. “Purple limyerite?”
“A modest yield, but not too bad,” Bertrand said smoothly. “All stable and safe. The foremen reported no incidents.”
The same mineral she’d seen riddle a corpse, eat its way into the marrow of a boy. JingYi fisted her gown. To hear it named as ‘stable and safe’ was like hearing poison praised for its sweetness.
“Purple limyerite is dangerous when mishandled,” Alexander said. “I trust it will not end up in the wrong hands.”
“Ah, ever the protector.” Bertrand’s smile was touched with concern. “You need not worry, my lord. There are always dishonourable men of the most unsavoury sort who’d like nothing more than to see purple limyerite spread unchecked, but I keep vigilant eyes on my charge.”
“Since your watch is so vigilant, answer a small question,” Alexander said. “Daan of Lornhelm—a lad of thirteen summers. He’s been ill, and his sickness appears to be purple limyerite poisoning. Have your men seen him near the shaft mouths?”
Bertrand’s brows rose, concern grazing his features before smoothing away. “No such boy has crossed my foremen’sreports, my lord. Village talk makes limyerite the villain of every cough and chill.” He shrugged. “In any case, waste is sealed and tallied under lock. And no one younger than eighteen is in my employ.”
Bertrand chuckled cordially, as if the matter were settled. “Fortunate, is it not, that you’ve been spared such tedium? You have enough on your plate without crystal ledgers and shaft reports dragging at your heels.”
Though her insides recoiled, JingYi kept her expression still. Bertrand’s words were all polished evasion, leaving a slick, unpleasant residue. Behind her, Alexander had tensed, his dislike for the lord palpable.
Bertrand bowed, the courtesy held on the surface. “Forgive me. I’d dearly love to enjoy your company, but duty calls. I must see these wagons safely to the port.”
“Safe journey, my lord,” JingYi murmured, if only to hurry him along.
Alexander only grunted. Together they watched the convoy veer away from the road to Niewberg, wheels creaking as the carts descended toward a mist-cloaked track she hadn’t noticed before.
“Not toward the capital?” she asked.
“They’ll go to Lowfen Quay first. It’s a port on the Blackfen River. From there, the cargo travels south by barge to Niewberg. Faster than dragging the heavy carts the whole way.”
“There’s a port here?” JingYi frowned, trying to picture it.
“A small one,” he said, “but it serves the northern fiefs. Timber, grains, pelts and hides, and limyerite—it all flows downriver.” His voice carried no pride, only a kind of grim resignation. “When Bertrand took charge, he talked the Crown into letting him build Lowfen Quay to ease the transport. EvenIhad to admit it was a fine idea.”
She glanced at the fading carts, the purple shimmer beneath their tarps haunting her mind. “Efficient,” she said softly.
“Efficient,” he echoed. She could hear him grinding his teeth. “And convenient.”
Her eyes remained on the bend. “He’s awfully confident.”
“Those who carry the Crown’s favour tend to be.”
“Do you suspect his involvement?”
Alexander was silent for a moment before answering, his voice lowered, “Bertrand has always known how to keep the Crown’s trust. He won’t let me forget it.”
She looked back at the road to Parandor. Crystals didn’t walk themselves to market, and poison didn’t find its way into the bodies of women and children by accident. Someone put it there.
The realization was cold steel pressed against her spine.
The fog pressed close, the road ahead blurring into shadow. Neither said more, but both knew the same conclusion waited, unspoken, between them.
