The fort's lower yard stank of river mud and tar, and every bucket line moved without anyone singing.
Hajin walked in through the service gate with a buyer's purse on his belt and Eirwen at his shoulder.
'The goat track stays our secret, so today I walk in the front like a paying customer.'
Eirwen carried the stamped labor tokens from the gorge raider inside a small cloth pouch tucked tight against her hip. She kept her bow unstrung across her back, which only made the nervous guards stare at it twice as hard.
"They're counting our steps," she murmured, barely moving her lips.
"Let them count, I'm here to shop," Hajin muttered, smiling at the nearest guard like they were old friends.
The guard did not smile back, and his hand drifted lazily toward his club.
Workers hauled chain across a stone channel, their wrists rubbed raw beneath frayed cloth, and nobody lifted their head.
