Iron rivets groaned as Sect Master Horgath hoisted the rear timber of the windowless palanquin onto his shoulder.
The box looked less like a noble carriage and more like a reinforced meat locker. Three layers of thick sheepskin felt lined the cedar walls, deadening every vibration from the courtyard.
Two days remained before the Hundred-Sect Pill Auction opened. If Kaelen Vance wanted to claim his designated VIP booth atop the Sky-Bridge, he had to cross six miles of bustling city streets without catching a single glimpse of the city’s ancient martial monuments.
“Check the ventilation slits,” Elder Sterling ordered, rapping his calloused knuckles against the pine roof. “If a stray gust carries a single syllable of public poetry inside, we turn the wagon around.”
“The air baffles are packed with goose down, Elder,” Sera Thorne replied, tightening a leather strap around the axle. “He could sleep through an artillery barrage in there.”
Mina Vance stood by the front poles, holding a wicker basket packed with roasted pumpkin seeds, two jars of clover honey, and a glowing spirit-stone lamp.
“Brother,” Mina called through the small food hatch. “I packed Book 7 of The Bandit King’s Secret Bride. The pages are already smoothed flat.”
