Page 103

“These rows are too close to the wall,” Bran says. “Snow packs outside the stone, warmth reaches it from within, and water gathers behind the stack. By spring, the lower logs will rot.”

Rhysandir examines the bark. “What correction is required?”

“Restack them with a hand’s width between wood and stone. Raise the first row on timber braces. Clear snow from the outside wall after every storm.”

“How many workers?”

“Six can complete it in two days.”

“Eight would complete it faster.”

“Eight will crowd the shed and trip over each other. Six.”

Rhysandir regards him with the focused attention he gives political opponents. Bran withstands it better than several Khuzuth nobles I have seen.

“Six,” Rhysandir agrees.

We move into the second shed.

Bran finds another damp corner and two rows stacked without enough space for air. The charcoal store fares better, though he orders one cracked roof tile replaced before the next snowfall.

Rhysandir asks precise questions.

Bran gives blunt answers.

Neither seems aware that a month ago, such an exchange would have been impossible. Bran viewed the stronghold as a black monument to indifference. Rhysandir viewed Lowtown through reports and strategic maps.

Now they stand together beneath a leaking roof discussing timber braces.

When the inspection ends, Bran wipes his hands on his trousers.

“Nessa said I should give you news,” he tells me.

“What news?”

“The promised supplies reached Lowtown. Every wagon.”

Relief moves through me so strongly that Rhysandir turns before Bran continues.

“Three grain wagons,” Bran says. “Two loads of firewood and charcoal. Medical stores arrived in sealed chests. Nessa and I counted everything with half the market watching.”

“Was anything missing?”

“Not a sack, log, or vial.”

“How long will it last?”

“The grain should reach the full three months if the rationing holds. Fuel may last longer. Since we repaired the pump, fewer families need fires to melt snow for water.”

“And the medicine?”

“Better than it was.”

He pauses.

“Not as good as having you.”

The words hurt because they are true.