Page 118 of The Sun He Buried

Asta moves close enough that her sleeve touches mine.

Eirik turns to her. “If you intend to keep me from the scale, stand on the other side.”

“I intend to keep her from you.”

“That will require more height.”

“Asta,” I whisper.

She doesn’t move.

Eirik turns back to me. “The three roads become one before the eastern pass. You’ve moved the weak place. You haven’t removed it.”

I can hear his voice saying I wanted him. My face goes hot.

He waits.

He asked about the idea.

I make myself look at the wagons. “Then the loads need separate records before the roads meet.”

“Written by whom?”

“The clerk at each scale.”

“One clerk can copy a false figure three times.”

Oh.

I glance at Ketill’s ledgers. “Send two records.”

Eirik’s head tilts.

“One with the wagon,” I continue. “One another way. A rider could carry a copy ahead, or back here, and the people at the pass wouldn’t see both until after they write their own.”

“And Sólvik?”

“Sends its count to you and Baldr separately.”

“Better.”

The word catches me harder than it should.

Eirik walks to the first wagon. Nobody blocks him. The yard doesn’t stop working, though every clerk nearby becomes very interested in the number under their hand.

He looks at Ketill. “Three releases. Three scale crews. A sealed tally travels with each load. A copy returns here by a separate rider. No clerk handles the same third at two stages.”

Ketill works through it. “Six more riders. More guards.”

“Missing silver costs more.”

“The north track adds half a day.”

“Then the second load uses it. The first takes the ridge road when the recount closes.”

Ketill nods once. “I’ll write the orders.”

I stare at Eirik. “You’re using it?”