“Every date, every weight, and every condition will be entered in ink on the day it occurs,” Seyun said, fastening the top two horn toggles of his shirt with the side of his wrist and little finger. “And whenever you wish to inspect the page that carries your name, the book will be open to you.”
“Good,” Daro Kesh said.
Then, instead of picking up the thirty-page paper notebook to put it away, the Black-Roof master reached both calloused hands down to the pine workbench. Then he lifted the original twenty-two-pound grey limestone tablet of the Counterpoise Sect.
Before Seyun could step back, Daro strode around the corner of the table and shoved the heavy stone slab squarely onto the shelf of Seyun’s bandaged forearms, resting the flat, smooth back of the limestone against the thick linen wraps between Seyun’s elbows and wrists where the downward weight pressed on the forearm bones rather than the burned palms.
Seyun’s knees bent slightly through the Returning Step to take the sudden twenty-two-pound load. He looked up at the older man in sharp surprise. “Master Kesh—the house awarded you this stone at the seventy-fifth breath.”
“And I’m returning the rock while keeping the ink,” Daro said flatly. He tapped the brown paper cover of the thirty-page notebook still lying on his workbench. “Don’t start arguing with me again like we’re back in Mother Renn’s pit, boy. Think with your clerk’s head for ten seconds.”
