Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors of the Imperial Quarry Trade group’s country headquarters on the north side of the square were forced open by court guards backed by Sile Rook and twenty mountain stonecutters.
with Magistrate Vane and the High Sheriff, Tomas Reed led the check party into the underground accounting cellar beneath the office building. The cellar was dry, smelling of coal stoves, beeswax, and red sealing wax.
At the end of the vault hall stood the master treasury door. A massive, six-inch-thick plate of rolled charcoal iron secured by three linked combination deadbolts.
Chief Administrator Krend, brought down in heavy transport irons, was placed before the door. “Open the locks, Krend,” the High Sheriff ordered.
Krend’s hands shook wildly as he dialed the brass tumblers. With three heavy metal clunks, the bolts retracted, and the iron door swung inward on oiled hinges.
Inside lay the private depository of the Trade group. Along the stone shelves rested rows of brass dispatch boxes, bags of company scrip tokens, and dozens of sheepskin record books.
Tomas walked straight to the heavy iron cage in the rear corner. Resting upon an oak stone stand was a heavy, iron-strapped chest of seasoned bog-oak. It was sealed with four undisturbed stamps of the Provincial Royal Treasury.
