The ferry landing smelled of river mud and tar. Bai laid out the clinic route ledger on a flat stone while ferryman Hesh checked the crates beneath the awning. Sen had brought the first sealed sack of roots and a smaller box of cloth. The glass bottles were wrapped separately in straw and set between two boards.
Hesh counted the bundles, then pointed at the seals. “I won’t carry unsealed crates. The guild accused two boatmen last month of moving restricted medicine.”
Bai showed him the market receipts and Hedi’s mark. “The labels state what is inside. The roots are ordinary goods. The bottles are empty.”
“Who pays if a storm forces me to keep them overnight?”
“I’ll pay a storage fee. You write down the delay and what you charge. No one will ask you to carry them through the checkpoint if the weather makes the crossing unsafe.”
Hesh looked at Yan. “You’re helping load?”
“I’m carrying the crate.”
“Then don’t stack it beside the rope. Wet hemp can wick water under the wrap.” Hesh turned to Bai. “I’ll take one crate as a trial. If the record is clear and it arrives dry, we can discuss the next shipment.”
