The ledgers didn't add up.
Thresh found it — because Thresh found everything, because Thresh's family had bred six generations of Kobolds whose idea of recreation was reading intelligence reports and whose definition of suspicious was "anything that makes mathematical sense in one column and doesn't in another."
"Cross-border trade volumes for the Draeven Exchange, last twelve months," Thresh said. They were in a guest room at Greywater Crossing's Academy hostel — a clean, functional space that the Southmark's practical hospitality provided without ceremony. Thresh had spread papers across the table — trade statistics, tariff records, customs manifests, all obtained through channels that Ryn had stopped asking about. "Silk imports: up fourteen percent. Gemstone imports: up twenty-two percent. Southern timber: up eleven percent."
"That's the nine percent average growth you mentioned."
