The infirmary clerk left his desk to fetch tea just after the morning bell. Yan had carried the day’s jars to the storehouse and returned with an excuse to check the return slips. He waited until the clerk turned into the corridor, then slid Suli’s wage slip beneath the ledger.
Ren’s brother’s name was on the transfer list. The record said he had moved to another post on the seventh day. The Furnace Two roster showed his trial shift began on the eighth. The wage slip showed that his pay stopped on the fourth.
Three dates. None explained where the man had gone.
Yan took the broken jar label from his boot and compared its copied date with the public ledger. Same day. Same crooked seven. He turned the label over and copied the date onto a clean scrap from his tally pad. The label was dirty and soft from being carried. The new scrap would be easier for Suli to keep.
The clerk returned. Yan slid the wage slip under his sleeve and put the broken label beneath the open book.
“Looking for something?” the clerk asked.
“Checking a batch number.” Yan pointed to a line in the ledger. “This mark looks like a stain.”
The clerk leaned across the desk. Yan closed the book before he could see the label. The clerk grunted, took the ledger, and left Yan to copy the jar count.
Outside, Ren waited near the market lane. His cart was empty, but his shoulders still leaned forward as if the load had not come off. Suli stood beside him with her arms folded tight.
“I told him you’d check,” she said.
Ren looked at Yan’s hand. “What did you find?”
Yan showed him the clean scrap. “The transfer is listed on the seventh. Your brother’s trial shift began on the eighth. The pay stopped on the fourth.”
Ren’s jaw tightened. “Then they owe him four days.”
“It means the records don’t agree. We need to know who can confirm the shift before we claim anything.”
“I’m going to the overseer,” Ren said. “He can explain why my brother was at Furnace Two after he transferred.”
“If he sends you away, we’ll have no answer and no one else will hear the dates,” Yan said. “Ask the night crew first. Find out who saw him.”
Ren started to answer, then looked at Suli. “You saw him leave for the trial shift.”
“I did. But I want someone else to say it too.” She took the clean scrap from Yan. “I’ll keep this. Don’t put my name in a complaint yet.”
“I won’t.”
They went to the yard gate, where the salvage claimant sat behind a narrow table. He dealt with tools and goods left behind when workers died, transferred, or vanished. A stack of forms sat in clean rows beside his scale.
Ren put his palm on the table. “I’m claiming my brother’s copper collar.”
The claimant checked the transfer list. “The family named in the record can file. A sibling needs confirmation that the worker is missing or dead.”
“He is missing.”
“According to what record?”
Yan laid out the roster dates. “The trial shift began on the eighth. The transfer says the seventh. The wage slip shows his pay stopped on the fourth.”
The claimant examined the papers. “This proves the dates conflict. It doesn’t prove what happened to him.”
“No,” Yan said. “We’re trying to establish where he was working.”
“Then you need testimony from the night crew or a correction to the roster. I can’t release the collar on a mismatch.”
Ren’s fingers flexed against the table. “How long does that take?”
“Longer if you begin by accusing the office of lying.”
Suli leaned closer. “What does the first request need?”
The claimant turned a blank form toward her. It asked for the worker’s name, last shift, last known post, and person making the claim. Suli copied the headings onto the back of another sheet, then asked which workers could verify the shift.
Yan pointed to the roster. “These two signed the Furnace Two night list. They worked near him. Others signed the cart count.”
“I can ask them,” Ren said.
“I’ll ask whether they’re willing to speak,” Suli replied. “No filing until they agree. I don’t want this to cost the other families their salvage payments if they’re not ready.”
A clerk crossed the lane and recognized Yan’s work shirt. “You’re supposed to be on the disposal count.”
“I am. I’m checking a payment error.”
“Tally work doesn’t make you an investigator.”
Yan had taken the broken label from his sleeve to compare the date again. The clerk pointed at it. “That’s a waste label. Put it in the bin.”
Yan looked at Suli. She held the clean copy and the wage slip. “I have what I need,” she said.
He folded the old label once and dropped it into the waste bin beside the gate. The clerk nodded and moved on.
Ren turned to Suli. “You shouldn’t have to ask the crew alone.”
“I won’t. You can come, but don’t tell them what to say.”
“I won’t.”
They stepped away from the claimant’s table. Ren still wanted to confront the overseer, but he went with Suli toward Furnace Two instead. Yan followed at a distance, carrying the empty cart they had left by the gate. He was due back at the disposal line, but the two night workers were at the water trough before their next assignment.
One of them, a broad man with a cloth wrapped around his thumb, was washing soot from his wrists. Ren stopped beside him. “Do you remember my brother on the trial shift?”
The man looked from Ren to Suli. “I remember the crew. Why?”
“The roster has him there on the eighth. The transfer list says he moved on the seventh. Can you say you saw him?”
The worker shut off the water. “I saw him at the furnace. He was late because he’d been sent to carry a load from the lower kiln.”
Ren leaned in. “Will you sign that?”
The worker glanced toward the office windows. “I’ll talk to Suli after my shift. I want to see what the paper says before I put my name on it.”
“That’s fair,” Suli said. “I’ll bring the roster copy.”
The second worker had been waiting with a water jug. “I was on the cart list, not the furnace line. I heard his name when they called the crew, but I didn’t see him work.”
Ren’s face fell. “You could still confirm he was assigned.”
“I can confirm what I heard. I won’t sign that I saw what I didn’t.”
Suli nodded. “That’s all I’m asking for.”
The first worker wrapped his thumb again. “Come after the bell. I’ll read the dates.”
Ren thanked him, then stepped back to let the next worker reach the trough. He had not been given a signed statement, but he had one man willing to check the record and another who would say only what he knew. Suli kept the scrap in her pouch.
Yan returned to the disposal desk. He copied the day’s jar count and added the broken label to ordinary waste. The date remained in the ledger, where anyone could check it. Suli had her clean copy and the wage slip. The next answer would have to come from the people who had been on shift.