The Minister came up the Ministry road that afternoon on a grey horse, with three clerks behind him and a wagon of paper behind them. He did not dismount at the gate. He sat in the saddle and waited for the gate to open, the way a man waits for something he has already paid for.
Benedek Ashdale was thinner than his letters. Calen had read his name on a great many letters and had expected a larger man. He wore a dark coat with a silver pin at the collar and gloves the color of wet slate.
His face was calm and did not look tired, though he had been on the road since dawn.
“Orrin,” said the Minister. “You are still here.”
“I am still here,” said Calen.
“Good. I had a wager with the Bureau that you would not be.”
Ashdale took a folded paper from his coat and opened it on the saddle horn. “The board has read your roll. The board has read your bread.
“The board has read your money, and the board is not impressed by any of it.”
