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“Only offended, so far.”
Daurek joins us at the courtyard steps. He asks Reivaka about the approaches as we walk. The morning notices sent northbound traffic over the bridge. A fallen cedar then closed the lower southbound road, and the diversion sent those wagons to the same crossing.
“I cleared the diversion without holding the northbound traffic first,” Reivaka says. “That one is mine. There’s one keeper controlling the crossing. He can’t promise to pay a trader’s late-delivery fine.”
The southern bridge carries one loaded wagon at a time over a fast branch of the river. On the north approach, a human woman stands on the bench of a blue-canopied wagon. Her iron-grey hair is braided close to her head.
“I was sent this way,” she calls across the bridge. “Ask your keeper.”
On the south side, a tusked man in a red coat holds the leads of two shaggy, six-horned draft beasts. A wagon loaded with great clay jars waits behind them on the slope.
“And mine told me to cross,” he shouts.
Reivaka names them for us: Senna Vale with the spice, Harl with the jars. Wagons are beginning to back up behind both of them.
We reach the north bank beside Senna’s wagon. Daurek stops at the end of the bridge. A wooden railing separates the pedestrian path from the drop to the river; the wagon track runs several feet to its side.
“No one moves yet.”
Both drivers start speaking.
“One at a time,” Daurek says. They stop long enough for me to ask a question.
I look at Senna’s wagon. She has clear ground to back onto, but Harl’s team is standing on the steeper approach.
“How long can you wait?” I ask her.
“My delivery has a stamped arrival time. Miss it and the eastern inspector fines the load.”
“Will the spice spoil?”
“Not in the time it takes him to cross. That won’t interest the inspector.”
I turn toward Harl.
“Can you back your team?”
“Down that slope with those jars pushing at them? No.”
I look at Daurek. “Harl needs the crossing. Senna needs the delay explained before she’s charged for it.”
“Agreed.” He turns to her. “We’ll cover any charge caused by the delay. Reivaka will record the time you reached us.”
Senna studies him, then steps down from the wagon bench.
“I’ll want that signed.”
“You’ll have it before you leave.”
While Senna directs her driver back toward the clearing, I move to the pedestrian path beside the railing, out of the wagons’ way. Daurek walks the bridge, testing the boards with his foot, and comes back to the north approach.
Reivaka nods to the keeper. Harl starts his team from the south, walking ahead of the beasts with their leads.
Daurek comes to stand beside me. “You found out what she needed.”
“She told me. Eventually.” I look past him at the jars. “I’m glad he isn’t trying to take those backward.”
The first beast reaches the bank. The second stumbles on the last stretch of wet deck and slips sideways, dragging against its traces.
