Huo’s scout came in at dusk, running hard enough to lose his cap. “A banner on the north road. Six mounted cultivators. They’re moving toward the grain carts.”
Wei had been checking the route board at the mill. He took the scout’s map and found the banner mark. “That is a forward detachment. The main column is still farther north.”
Bai was already calling the drivers. “Turn the nearest carts toward the lower ridge. Keep the loads together until the fork. If the road closes, leave the grain behind the mill wall.”
One driver looked at the sacks. “If we abandon them, the Registry will burn the whole store.”
“They won’t get them tonight,” Bai said. “The side wall is stone, and we have a return route. The choice is yours. No one is ordered to hold the road.”
The driver glanced at the blue lamp hanging over the mill door. “If the first cart reaches shelter, I’ll take the second.”
Ning’s messenger had brought written options for the drivers: continue, turn back, or leave the load at the marked shelter. The driver read the slip and folded it. He turned the cart toward the ridge.
Two carts passed the fork before the Registry riders reached it. The miller lit the blue lamp when the first reached shelter. Wei saw the signal from the ditch and called to Yan, “The grain is safe. The next cart is turning back.”
