Meanwhile, Pa frowns. "Knowing and admitting are separate matters."
"Then don't accuse him," she says.
"What?"
"Tell him less than he expects. Let him tell us where we're wrong."
I understand before Pa does. "He'll correct the accusation."
Lissy nods. "Princeton came into my shop once. He couldn't stand that I knew more about my own lease than he did. Men like that need everybody to understand how clever they are."
"Will he speak in front of his father?" Ma asks.
"He shouldn't," I say.
Lissy looks at me. "But he will."
Yes. He will, and he'll enjoy doing it.
On the fifth day, a rider comes from Grammy's cottage with the letter I sent after Lissy. The envelope is still sealed. Grammy has written across the front of it in large, unhurried letters.
SHE LEFT BEFORE THIS CAME. TRY NOT TO MAKE ME RIDE THERE.
Lissy reads it alone in the library window while the light is still good. I stay on the other side of the room with Brynna and pretend to understand a column of warehouse numbers.
Does she believe any of it?Does it make one thing better, or have I only handed her something else to carry?Should I ask her?
No. Not while the Vosses are still standing.
"You aren't reading that," Brynna says without lifting her head.
"I am."
"You've had that page a quarter of an hour, and it's a list of barrel weights." She turns her own page over. "She's read yours three times. I counted."
My chest goes tight. "Why would you count?"
"Because you won't ask her, and one of us has to know where things stand." Brynna dips her pen. "She put it in her apron, not her satchel. People keep things in an apron when they intend to keep touching them."
"Brynna."
"I'm telling you what I observed. I don't draw conclusions from insufficient data." She writes a figure down and underlines it. "Draw your own."
When Lissy folds the letter, she puts it inside her apron. She doesn't look at me for a long time.
Then she brings me another statement to sign, and we keep working.
The Crown entersthe warehouse on Tanner's Row on market day.
I am nowhere near it. Neither is Lissy. That decision takes three arguments, one threat from Ma, and Pa saying my name in the tone that ended disagreements when I was eight years old.
"If an orc lord is standing there when the warrant is served, the story becomes the orc lord," Pa says.
He's right. I hate it.
The auditor goes in with two magistrates and Kenna's angriest dockmaster as a witness. Harek watches from a fish stall across the row and tells us afterward that Princeton doesn't run. He is sitting inside the clerk's cage with the true ledgers open in front of him when the magistrates come through the door. He closes the largest book beneath one hand, smiles, and asks whether his father knows they are there.
The auditor is a small gray male with spectacles and no interest whatsoever in being impressed.
