Ardin Snowveil's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

The wind shifted, and a guild inspector stepped from a small gatehouse set up near the storehouse doors. Wooden desks and shelves of records waited inside. He held a rune-marked stone in one gloved hand. "One hour," he said to Mira. "Take down the display, or we seize it all." Mira's jaw set hard, but her hands trembled on the frame of her demand board. Torches hissed against the ice around its plaques. Ardin stood up slowly. He unrolled his tool kit on the frozen ground and lifted out a melting clock, brass gears turning behind clear resin as trapped water dripped a slow countdown. He set it on a barrel where the inspector could see it. "One hour," Ardin said. "Then we'll all watch together." He worked while the clock dripped. He did not dismantle her display. He reinforced it. He tightened the metal frame, re-hung each plaque, and checked every stitch panel on the driftwood arch. He spoke quietly as he worked, naming the garment rule that made her cloaks lawful, pointing to her compass marks. Mira watched his hands, not his face. Her certain gaze went soft at the edges again. The last drop fell. The inspector lifted his stone, pressed it to a panel, and the rune stayed cold. Lawful. He lowered the stone, wrote a short note, and walked back to the gatehouse without a word. Mira let out a breath she had been holding for an hour. She looked at Ardin, and this time she did not look like someone who had solved him. She looked like someone who wanted to ask.