The stone bridge market was crowded with carts waiting to cross. A single cargo scale stood beside the gate, its beam dark from years of handling. Merchant Varo kept the weights in a locked box and charged each carrier by the load.
Bai set the clinic crates on the platform. Varo lowered the arm, checked the beam, and named a fee that would take most of the route’s remaining margin.
Yan looked at the scale. The beam sagged even before the crate was fully settled. “It’s sitting low. I can bend it back with one hand.”
“Wait,” Bai said.
Varo’s face tightened. “The fee isn’t negotiable.”
“Maybe the beam is damaged,” Bai said. “But I want to see the toll receipts before we decide the charge is invented.”
Varo opened his account book and pulled out several folded papers. He showed them the bridge inspector’s charge for each cart and a second fee he had paid after the road closure. The receipts were real. The inspector had collected from Varo’s own wagons as well as the other carriers.
Bai examined the dates and amounts. “These costs explain part of the price. They don’t explain why your rate changed three times this month.”
