Page 126 of The Sun He Buried

“The recount is finished,” Eirik says. “Your allotment agrees at every scale. The first wagon is ready.”

Baldr’s hand drops from my neck. “Good. We leave at once.”

“No.”

The wind slams into the shutters.

Baldr turns fully toward him.

Eirik takes the map from Ketill and lays it on the end of the nearest table. “The ridge road closed twelve minutes ago. The lower road will be gone before a wagon reaches the first marker.”

“Then we use the north track.”

“The north track closed first.”

Baldr stares at him.

“The ore is ready,” Eirik continues. “You are not leaving with it until the watch clears a road.”

Ketill puts the rolled map beside Eirik’s hand. “The physical count is clean. Every reserve, every release, every bar.”

“And the eastern receipt?” Baldr asks.

“Still missing.”

Baldr gives one short laugh. “Then the problem that started this hasn’t been solved.”

Eirik’s gloved finger rests on the ridge line. “The metal is present. The paper is not.”

“You kept us four days to find a page.”

“I kept the metal from leaving until I knew it hadn’t left already.”

“You knew this was coming.”

Eirik rests one gloved hand on the map. “Snow. In Myrkviðr. A shocking development.”

Baldr gets in his face so quickly that my wet cloak slips from Asta’s hands.

They have the same face.

I knew that. I’ve seen them in the same room. It still catches me when they stand this close: Baldr open and furious, Eirik hidden behind silver, pale-green left eyes fixed on each other.

“You had a watch report the day we arrived,” Baldr says. “You knew the last clear day was yesterday.”

“The report advised no travel restriction.”

“It gave you the storm.”

“It gave me a chance of snow on the fourth day. Winter has produced one.”

Baldr’s hands close at his sides. “And you opened every seal in the north room.”

“Eight bars were missing.”

“From the eastern reserve.”

“Missing silver has an irritating habit of becoming relevant.”