In the deep rock recess of the pump chamber, Nessa Vale struck a sulfur match against her boot sole, relighting the colza-oil burner of her land-mapper’s lamp. The amber flame flickered, reflecting off the pale, dust-streaked faces of the six young splitters who huddled against the granite wall.
Tomas Reed knelt on the gravel floor. From the waterproof pocket of his ash-wood pack frame, he withdrew the heavy, yellowed sheepskin folio: THE DEEP GALLERY EMERGENCY EXTRACTION BOND (REF: EXT-080-SUNDER). The royal wax seal of the Provincial Treasury, intact for sixteen years, gleamed dark vermilion in the lamplight.
“For sixteen years, this bond lay dormant in the vaults,” Tomas said, his voice quiet, filled with the solemn rhythm of a court judge. “The company drew gold from it while eighty men died in the dark. The Crown waited for a licensed claimant to break the seal and assume the burden of recovery.”
Tomas unsheathed his small bone-handled work knife. He didn’t hesitate. He cut the hemp binding twine, sliced through the crust of royal wax. Then he unfolded the four-foot sheepskin scroll across the stone floor.
Beside him, Mara Flint drew Dennis Cole’s twenty-second slate tablet from its canvas wrap, placing the carved stone directly onto the center of the thick parchment text. The words carved in stone met the words inscribed in sheepskin: THE RECOVERY OF EIGHTY CITIZENS OF MOUNT SUNDER.
