The Warrant of Archival Safety check was written on heavy, double-thick sheepskin thick parchment. He measured eighteen inches by twenty-four.
It bore the circular seal of the Petty Court of the King’s Bench, stamped in dark green beeswax that smelled of clove oil and pine pitch, with the bold, angular signed name of Magistrate Orlo. It wasn’t a polite request for information. It was a peremptory court summons commanding the Keeper of the Rolls to grant immediate, unhindered access to the underground repositories of the Grand High court to Tomas Reed, Master Tax clerk of the Last Claim, and his authorized assistants.
At exactly eight o’clock in the morning, Tomas, Hester Quill, and Olla climbed the forty-eight marble steps of the High court.
The morning fog had cleared, leaving a sky the color of cold lead. Tomas didn’t wear his humble cart driver coat. Over his wool tunic he wore the dark gray, triple-stitched field robe of an accredited Master Tax clerk, heavy at the shoulders with oiled leather carriage pads, his thirty-two closure seals cast in dull bronze and pinned in four neat rows of eight across his left breast. The metal caught the pale autumn sunlight, chiming softly with a low, metal murmur at every step.
