Tavin halted the train before the security frame reached Dry Fan.
The long wagon stood high in the lay-by with its bed restrained and its animals already being led uphill. The nearer wagons had separated in Deni’s order, leaving a clear turning space instead of a knot of wheels. Drivers moved to the marked stone shelter. Jora’s guards kept the medicine path open and made the curious stand somewhere their curiosity could survive.
Nobody drove a load into the gun’s lane to prove a point about public roads.
The machine came for them anyway.
Its tracks ground over the lower turn, armor pale beneath the dust. A projector crew stood behind the front shield. Two smaller firing rests covered the side approaches. The balancing frame carried its weight high, ready to lower bridging skids if the road’s soft edge failed beneath it.
Warden Cail Dorn rode on the command step.
“Regional materials inspection,” he called. “Open the long cases.”
Tavin stood beside the receiving marks with his hands empty.
