"I also have the arrest documentation for Edria of Oxwood," I add. "Filed two days before the sweep. Witnesses listed who all work for Malrec. A chain of custody on the forge evidence that doesn't survive scrutiny." My voice doesn’t change. "The charge is treason and arms supply. The sentence is execution."
He looks up.
"She didn't start this," I say. "You know that."
A long pause. The straw beneath our feet is damp and the wind comes through the gaps in the outbuilding walls. One of Velis's men shifts his weight and says nothing.
"He came to me a few years ago," Velis finally says. "Not directly. Through a contact — a man named Drest who ran courier work between Denvara and the border settlements. Drest said there was money available to facilitate certain shipments through the west. Keep the roads clear, avoid certain patrol schedules, move volume on specific dates."
"Malrec's patrol schedules," I say.
"I didn't have confirmation it was him. Not at first." Velis rubs his forehead. "But the pattern was obvious after the first year. The routes we used were always open when they should have been watched. Inspections that should have caught us were rerouted the day before. Someone with oversight authority was managing it."
"When did you confirm it was Malrec?"
"Eighteen months ago. Drest slipped — mentioned the magistrate by name during a payment negotiation. Said the magistrate's patience with the eastern buyers was running out and we needed to increase volume." He shrugs, a small defeated motion. "By then I was too far in to walk away."
"And the blacksmith," I say. "Edria."
Something crosses his face. Not guilt, exactly. Closer to discomfort. "She was a supplier. Good work, reliable, didn't ask questions."
"Did Malrec know about her specifically?"
"He knew about the western suppliers. Whether he knew her name before the arrest—" He pauses. "Drest was asking about her. What she produced, how much, whether she had any direct contact with the border lord." He raises his arms in an exaggerated shrug. "I didn't connect it then."
I stand very still.
Around the time Malrec made his first pointed comment to me about human informants. Around the time of the festival, when he mentioned the creek path.
He was building the case around her connection to me. Not because she was the most significant piece of the supply chain — she wasn't — but because she was the piece that would damage me most publicly. Arrest the woman the border lord has been visiting. Accuse her of seduction and manipulation. Let the story do the rest.
"He used her to get to me," I say.
Velis doesn't answer, which is answer enough.
"You'll testify to what you just told me. In writing, with Cyran as witness, today." I step back toward the door. "In exchange, I'll ensure the oversight council receives a full accounting of Malrec's involvement before your sentencing. What they do with that information affects your situation considerably more than what they do with mine."
He nods, once, his shoulders sagging. He doesn’t have any better options.
I step outside into the cold evening air and stand there for a moment while Cyran follows Velis toward the outbuilding's rough table.
Malrec didn't stumble onto Edria. He chose her. He watched, waited, and picked the moment when her connection to me was visible enough to be useful and her situation vulnerable enough to make the charge stick. He put her in that cell to send me a message about what it costs to interfere with his arrangements.
I walk back toward the horses and think about what it's going to cost him in return.
25
EDRIA
Nyrius visits on the fifth day.
I hear the argument before I see him — his voice, low and controlled, and the prison warden's voice, higher and increasingly uncomfortable. The argument ends. Boots on stone, then the cell block door, then Nyrius at my bars with a guard hovering six feet behind him looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
Nyrius looks at me the way he looked at the forge the first night he caught me working — taking full inventory before he says anything.
"You're thinner," he says.
"The food is terrible." I stand up from the stone shelf, moving to the bars. "Did you bribe him or threaten him?"
