The lead casing around the ancient thick parchment metal tube was sealed with three nested circles of black pitch and cold-stamped lead.
Ren Vale knelt on the soot-dusted flat stone slabs beneath the huge iron bolts of the Cinder Gate. His lambskin apron was stiff with dried potion-made mud, his hands stained with violet ink and fine coal dust. But his movements were slow, careful, governed by the razor-sharp discipline of a careful keeper.
He didn’t use a hammer or a crowbar.
With the silver metal ring of his mammoth ivory awl, he traced the hairline seam where the lead casing was soldered to the iron chain. He tapped the metal three times, listening to the sound return with his ear pressed to the casing.
“Lead-tin alloy,” Ren whispered, his voice steadying. “Sixty percent lead, forty percent tin, steadied with crushed charcoal to resist moisture. The seal was poured in Year One of the Second Epoch.”
He slid the sharp, silver-tipped edge of the awl into the soldered joint, applying a slow, twisting leverage with his forearm.
With a soft, dry snick, the ancient lead solder parted.
The tube-shaped casing split open like an overripe pea-pod. It showed the roll of cured thick parchment within.
