Page 79 of The Sun He Buried

Ketill rests his fingertips on the board. “The other reserves agree with their ledgers.”

“They agreed this morning. Give them the pleasure again.”

Thora draws on her glove. Slowly.

“Open every sealed release,” I say. “Count the bars by hand. Nothing leaves for three days.”

The older clerk looks up. “Dróttin Baldr’s allotment is sealed.”

“Break it.”

“It was counted at the mine, the upper gate, and the north room.”

“A fourth count will soothe its nerves.”

Ketill’s eyes lift to mine. “Breaking that seal holds Baldr’s party here.”

I slide the tally board back to him. “Pay both crews for the extra hours.”

“He can inspect the questionable reserve without waiting for the others.”

“He came to inspect a complete release.”

“Which was complete before supper.”

“Then supper has ruined it.”

The clerks keep their faces arranged with heroic care.

“Every count,” I say. “Every seal. Three days.”

They bow and take the board.

Thora stands with them. The little purse waits where I left it beside the west lamp. She takes it and smooths her thumb over the ties.

“Next week?” she asks.

I pour what remains in the bottle. “Don’t go far.”

She waits for the rest.

“I’ve a feeling I’ll have need of you again before the night’s out.”

Ketill opens the door. Thora slips past him with the purse in her hand—and a small, careful hope she thinks she’s hiding.

The clerks follow. Ketill closes the door and stays.

His gaze touches the chair beneath the west lamp. Then the empty cup. Then the seal drawn beside Baldr’s allotment.

His walls rise a notch. Beneath them, concern stays warm and steady. He’s decided to inspect me. That’s what clerks are for.

I lift the fresh cup. “Try to survive the mystery.”

“I’m considering a cushion.”

He picks up a folded slip the clerks left beneath the tally board. “North watch.”

The paper gives tomorrow a clear road. Pressure falls after that. A storm comes on the fourth day, though the front may still turn north.