The conference room on the third floor was warm, smelling of rich coffee and fresh bond paper.
Three typed covenant agreements lay on the polished mahogany table, each bound with red ribbon at the left margin and stamped with Haven’s blue administrative crest. Beside the papers sat a silver dish of butter mints, a glass pitcher of water, and an antique brass inkwell with two steel-nibbed dip pens.
Luis had been escorted up from the clinic five minutes earlier. He stood by the window beside Gideon, his canvas medical satchel slung over his shoulder, his face completely expressionless.
Silas Venn sat at the head of the table, uncapping a gold fountain pen.
“It is very simple, Mara,” Venn said, turning the third page toward her with two fingers. “Article One confirms Candlewake as an affiliated district station. Article Four establishes our quarterly delivery schedule: forty gallons of refined diesel, six units of medical-grade storm-glass, and fifty pounds of milled corn. In exchange, your register acknowledges the central authority of the Haven Consolidation Court in matters of regional intake and identity allocation.”
He held the fountain pen out to her, handle first.
“Sign the acknowledgment line,” Venn said, his voice as calm and reasonable as a banker approving a crop loan. “Then Administrator Finch will take you to Dormitory C to collect June Mercer. You can be on the road before the dusk freeze.”
