The missing barrel began as a difference between two columns.
By the time Tamsin reached the lamp-oil store, it had become a story about the visitors sleeping nearby.
Someone had seen people near the door after dark. Someone else knew the kitchen’s lamps had used more than expected. A volunteer proposed searching the sleeping places before the oil could be sold.
“Who saw a cask opened?” Tamsin asked.
Nobody answered.
“Moved?”
The first helper had seen a person with a bag. The bag became smaller as the questions approached what it had actually looked like.
Tamsin checked the lock. Intact. The numbered delivery seals remained with the casks. Two containers from the brokered batch had not yet been opened.
