The Assize Chamber of the High Karst Town Hall was a stark, austere room paneled in dark heart-oak, heated only by a small peat fire bowl in the corner. Behind the long judge’s bench sat Tomas Reed, Hester Quill, and Captain Sile Rook. She was flanked by three elected elders of the Karst Miners’ Assembly. On the witness stool before them sat Clerk Orson—Karr’s chief bookkeeper—a thin, balding man of forty-five with trembling hands, watery blue eyes. An ink-stained woolen coat that smelled of sour beer and fear.
Hester Quill laid an open ledger on the bench before him, its pages ruled with Karr’s secret accounts. Her ivory folio-knife tapped against a specific column of figures in the middle of page forty-two.
“Explain this entry, Orson,” Hester demanded, her voice cutting through the silent room like a razor through thick parchment. “‘To the Account of the Silver Weft Trade ring, Crown-Reach: Remittance of Twelve Thousand Silver Crowns, being uncalled agricultural escrows from Cantons Four through Seven.’ You signed the transfer voucher as Approved Assize Notary. Where did that money go?”
Orson swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing wildly. He wiped his palms against his knees, his eyes darting toward the armed watchmen standing at the door.
