The council hall smelled of grain dust and the oil used to clean the tables. Mera had set the manifest beside Qinghe’s assay report. The verified fever medicine was now on the clinic shelf, and the bandages had been sorted into clean bundles. The suspect batch remained under two seals at the storehouse.
Mera looked over the report. “Only one medicine batch contains the additive?”
“Yes,” Qinghe said. “The tested fever medicine matches the clinic’s usual formula. The other batch has a stronger scent and still needs comparison. The missing-number batch contains the dependency additive. We have not tested every bottle, but the sealed samples from it agree.”
“Should we reject the whole shipment?” Mera asked. “If we accept some and hold others, people may hear only that the Registry sent dangerous medicine.”
Bai set the crate sketch on the table. “Rejecting the grain and verified medicine would waste useful supplies and give the Registry a reason to say the refuge refused aid. The records show the odd crate was added later. We should keep the safe goods and isolate that batch.”
Mera studied the clean fever label beside the green-wax drawing. “If we accept the good crates, will people think we have accepted the letter too?”
