Page 105

Rhysandir gives one small nod.

I return it before carrying the herbs into the changed stronghold.

18

RHYSANDIR

Human labor contracts cover my desk.

Forty-three belong to kitchen workers. Another thirty-one govern the stables, storerooms, laundry, and lower maintenance crews. Fiona’s report lies at the center of them beside work schedules, meal records, injury accounts, and spoiled-supply tallies.

I intended to spend the evening reviewing patrol positions. Instead, I read the name of every human employed beneath my roof.

The contracts use the same language. Service begins at the first assigned bell and continues until the supervising officer releases the worker. No clause limits the number of hours. No clause protects meal periods from reassignment. Rations remain subject to the overseer’s assessment of rank, labor, and conduct.

The terms are legal. They are also costing House Morwen’thir more than they produce.

Fiona marked seven eighteen-hour shifts in the kitchen records. Three belonged to workers under sixteen. Perrin, the child she found struggling with a cauldron, began before the dawn bells and remained through evening service.

The kitchen steward recorded every hour without recognizing the total as a problem.

I compare the schedules with the spoilage accounts.

A servant measures grain incorrectly after sixteen hours beside the ovens. Winter roots remain in damp storage because the worker assigned to move them is ordered to haul water. Jars of tizret preserves shatter after an exhausted scullion drops the tray. Dripir meat spoils when no one completes the evening inspection.

The mistakes increase with the length of the shifts. So do the injuries.

Burns occur near the end of the day. Cuts become more common after missed meals. One human collapses beside an oven and returns to duty after someone pours cold water over her face. The Zagfer steward records the event as indiscipline.

I draw a line through the word.

A knock sounds.

“Enter.”

Sarveth opens the study door and pauses when she sees the contracts.

“The kitchen has conquered your desk,” she says.

“The kitchen has wasted enough provisions to supply a border patrol for three months.”

She closes the door. “Fiona’s calculations were accurate.”

“You checked them.”

“I check every claim before allowing it to alter this household.”

“And?”

“Eighteen-hour shifts produced no useful increase in completed work. They produced injuries, delays, and spoiled food.”

I hold up Perrin’s contract. “This permits service from the first oven until the final cleaning.”

“It is the standard form.”

“The standard is defective.”

“Humans have served under those terms for generations.”