Korrin came into the Kitchen before the second bell with a Bond form folded in his coat and a list of the granary men’s names in his fist, and he set both on the bread-counter as though they were the same kind of thing.
Pell was at the counter already. She had been there since the first bell, cutting the day’s loaves into halves with the long knife and laying them on the board in rows, because the Kitchen had nine men to feed before the granary opened and she had never once let a Hold man go to his sacks on an empty belly. She did not stop cutting when he came in. She looked at the paper in his coat, and at the list, and at his face, which had the granary’s dust in the creases and the particular hard stillness of a man who had been awake all night and had decided not to be tired about it.
“Bread,” said Korrin.
“Good morning to you too, boy.”
“The men who carry the sacks need bread,” said Korrin. “Twelve of them. They have been on short rations since the Lessaran line came into the reeds, and the rations were short before that, and I am tired of counting men who do not eat. I want bread for them. On credit.” He tapped the folded form with one blunt finger. “Against the silver. The Bond offers shares at the new moon. I shall take the silver and pay the…
