Brell would not sign the contract until Sorn changed the sentence about the rope.
“Nothing is cut,” he said.
Relvan Sorn looked down at the marked line.
“It’s a precaution against unauthorized movement.”
“It’s a way to put eight hundred kilos into a river. I won’t have it in my instructions.”
They sat in the upper office of Sorn’s receiving warehouse. Below the window, ordinary loads changed hands under agreements that did not require an armed man to stand beside them. A clerk waited at the outer desk with the promised advance. Brell could hear the little slide of coins being counted through the half-open door.
He had priced six people, his own turn and the likely cost of keeping them in Stonewake afterward. The figure was high. Sorn had accepted it without the offended expression employers sometimes used instead of bargaining.
That interested him.
