The quantities are significant. This isn't experimental. This is supply infrastructure for something that has been running a while, especially since it requires a ledger. I close the chest, and leave everything as it was.
Zevrik is still in the study when I reach it — a lamp burning at his elbow, correspondence open, the picture of a man who works late because he is conscientious. He looks up when I enter, and his expression arranges itself into the appropriate version of attentive.
"The village incident," I begin, taking the chair across from him. "Walk me through what you know about Malrec's movements leading up to it."
He sets his pen down."He arrived three days prior. Storm relief coordination, as declared."
"And if his coordination is something else?"
Zevrik considers the question with the same measured care he brings to every answer. "Then moving too early would only help him. Suspicion is useful. Public action without certainty is not."
"You advise patience."
"I advise evidence. Malrec would survive suspicion. He would not survive proof."
"And before that. His contact with the eastern settlements."
"Limited, from what the riders reported. Two visits to the outlying plots. One meeting with the mill authority." He folds his hands. "Nothing that would flag."
"The mill authority," I repeat. "You have that from the riders."
"From the patrol log, yes."
The log for that period is sitting in Vuldren's room. I read it this morning. It doesn't mention the mill authority. I don't correct him. Instead, I watch him like I watch the tree line when something has stopped moving through it.
"The eastern houses," I redirect. "Eldren specifically. When did the correspondence volume change?"
"Several weeks ago, I'd estimate." He studies me from beneath lowered lashes. "Though I'd want to verify the exact dates before?—"
"Your estimate is sufficient."
He gives me the estimate. It lands six days before the first beast attack on Elowen's cottage. I stand, and he stands with me, and I tell him I'll need his assessment on the settlement withdrawal list by morning. He agrees without hesitation. His face gives me nothing I can hold.
I am almost impressed by that. I leave the study, and I am four steps into the corridor before I understand what the space between my shoulders has been trying to tell me for the past twenty minutes.
Zevrik knew about the mill meeting because someone told him. Not from the log. Someone with direct access to Malrec's movements, someone who filtered what reached the official record and what didn't. The log is Vuldren's. Vuldren's loyalty I have never questioned. But the entries pass through a second hand before they're filed, and Zevrik files them.
I stop in the corridor and let that sink in.
Elowen's coming from the direction of the physician's wing when I turn the corner, looking like she's been thinking hard about something. She stops right in front of me when she sees me, and for one flat second neither of us speaks.
Zevrik emerges from the study doorway behind me.
His stare travels to Elowen with an expression I would characterize, in anyone else, as polite interest. In Zevrik itis assessment wearing politeness as a coat. He holds it for two seconds before inclining his head toward her and then withdrawing, door closing behind him without sound.
I watch Elowen's eyes follow him as he leaves.
"You've been to Nyssara's," I state, because it is preferable to whatever else I might say.
"I've been studying the samples." Her eyes return to me, and the focus in them has shifted, sharpened around something she is deciding whether to say. "Orrik told me something at the village. About Malrec. About how often he's been in the square, and what he's been saying there." She pauses. "I thought you should know."
"I know."
"You know."
"I've been aware of his movements."
She is quiet for a moment. Then: "How aware. How long."
