Bram Mott brought another option before Lyra had finished reading his access endorsements.
Food. Spare fittings. A route that avoided the official waiting places.
He described it with the persuasive detail of a man who had actually sent goods along it. The loads would be small. His contacts knew the quieter hours. He could make an uncomfortable interval much easier for the district.
“In return?” Lyra asked.
“The oil account is settled. Treat it as a misunderstanding. No more public demonstration. No questions about technical papers copied while I handled the manifests. We all need to understand our clients.”
Lyra laid the endorsement beside his retained delivery summary.
“Which client needs to know where these return branches meet the anchor housing?”
“A good trader understands access.”
