Beorn turned toward the bins along the right-hand wall and began working through them in order. He checked the coarse aggregate first, then the fine. Next came stone dust stored in sealed jars, each lid marked in chalk.
Hydrated lime sat nearby in a large cloth bag, the drawstring tied loosely so it could be opened during daily work. He pulled the bag free and set it on the floor beside him.
Farther along the row he found sand in two different weights, a covered tin that held coal dust, and a jar filled with clay powder.
The second row of bins sat lower and extended farther back. Near the end, behind two jars of fine stone dust, he noticed a container that did not match the rest. It was ceramic instead of cloth.
It was also smaller, holding less than a full day's supply of any standard material. The lid had been sealed with a ring of dried clay that had been pressed in place and left to harden. A chalk symbol in the guild's shorthand was marked on the side.
Inside lay a fine-milled powder, grey-white but carrying a faint warmth in its color that the stone dust beside it lacked.
He took a small handful and pressed it between his fingers. The grains clumped with a resistance that ordinary stone dust never showed. The cohesion kept briefly, then released. He held the sample near the lamp and breathed lightly across the surface.
He compared the sample with the notes he had written in the margin during the retrieval. The correct volcanic ash carried reactive aluminosilicate compounds inside its structure. Those compounds formed only under particular geological conditions.
The same process also left iron-rich mineral impurities trapped in the volcanic glass. Those impurities made the material chemically active in ways ordinary kiln ash never was.
The particles here were coarser than the ideal source. This was a secondary deposit, likely gathered without understanding why it improved adhesion on rough stone surfaces.
Someone had noticed the effect, stored it here, and used it occasionally when a difficult job required stronger grip. The guild had been holding part of the answer for years without realizing what it was connected to.
It would be enough for the demonstration.
He set the ceramic container beside the lime bag. Then he took a mixing board and paddle down from the hooks on the shelf. A flat slab of stone from the lower shelf would serve as the casting base.
From the upper shelf he brought down the guild's standard finished mortar sample, a hardened block resting in a tin tray. He placed it on the floor beside his workspace so both samples would be within reach.
Two portions of ash to one portion of lime. He measured them into the bowl and combined them dry.
The paddle moved steadily through the powder until the warm grey of the ash had spread evenly through the white lime. A small measure of fine aggregate followed. He worked it through the mixture until the texture and color were uniform again.
Water came in three additions. The first met immediate resistance. The paste dragged against the paddle with a cohesion that ordinary mortar would not develop until much later in the mixing process.
He worked through that resistance until the mixture was fully combined before adding the second portion. By then the character of the material had changed.
The third addition brought the mixture to the correct consistency.
When he turned the paddle sideways, the paste was clear to him. When he scooped a portion and dropped it from height, it landed in a compact mass and stayed where it fell. The surface remained smooth and stable.
He packed a small block of the mixture onto the casting stone. He pressed it level, then set the form aside.
Aestrith watched from near the shelves behind him. Her attention was fixed on the block rather than on him.
He pulled the stool from the corner and sat down.
The headache had eased at the base of his skull. Before pressure had been sharp and intrusive. Now it was a dull, steady ache.
It did not stop him from thinking, but it made its presence known each time his focus drifted toward it. He chose not to attend to it. Other things mattered more.
He estimated twelve to fifteen minutes before the initial set would advance far enough to test. Full curing would take days. That timeline did not matter now.
What he needed from fifteen minutes was a measurable resistance difference between this block and the standard sample. The difference would be small, but it would be visible to someone who had spent decades pressing mortar surfaces with his hands. Cerdic had that experience.
That would be sufficient.
He waited.
He stepped through the workroom and into the passage that led toward the client hall. Speaking through the open doorway, he said, "When you have a moment."
Cerdic returned without hurry. He paused in the entrance and checked the storeroom before stepping fully inside.
He looked at Beorn. Then at Aestrith. After that he crossed the room and crouched beside the mixing board.
He tested the standard mortar first. His thumb pressed steadily into the surface, the pressure increasing at an expected rate.
He turned to the cement block and repeated the procedure.
Then he released.
The surface had the impression cleanly.
He dragged his thumbnail across the standard mortar. It cut a full, clear track. Then he dragged it across the cement block. The nail barely left a mark.
Cerdic stood and picked up the cement block. He set his palm against the underside, locked his arm straight, and put his weight behind it.
He counted to himself. Then he released the pressure and ran his fingers along each face, reading the resistance through touch.
Finally he set the block back on the board.
For a moment he said nothing. His expression belonged to a craftsman who had just confirmed that something worked exactly as claimed.
The remaining question was not whether it worked. The question was how he intended to position himself in response.
"Everything in that block came from your storeroom," Beorn said.
Cerdic looked at him. "And the further benefits?"
"The material sets harder in water than it does in open air. Under continuous load it holds where standard mortar eventually fails."
Cerdic turned the block once more in his hands. His attention had changed to applications. Ashmark was built extensively near a marsh.
The lowland districts required drainage works. Foundations and retaining structures had to survive long-term water exposure. The city contained many such sites.
He set the block down.
"What do you want," he said.
"I want you hire your guild, an exclusive contract with the protectorate's seat," Beorn said. "Drainage systems, foundations, wall sections, civic structures as the city's building program expands. The finished result becomes something no other contractor in this territory can produce."
Cerdic watched him with attention. It was the look of someone who had heard many opening proposals and was waiting for the point where complications appeared.
"I believe Coss takes a percentage of your finished contracts?" Beorn said.
"... indeed."
"This seat contracts supersede private commercial contracts inside protectorate territory. His percentage does not apply to work issued under the seat's authority."
"The percentage is just a part of it," Cerdic said. He uncrossed his arms and placed both hands flat on the bench between them. "There's more. He secured contracts with the quarries foremen north of the walls. He locked down the haulage routes and placed his own men along the access roads."
Beorn frowned slightly.
"Every load of limestone entering Ashmark passes through his access. My lime stock, every other contractor's materials, every building project in this city that needs stone."
His tone carried no anger. It sounded like someone describing a condition he had lived beside long enough that it had become ordinary.
"I pull stone from quarries that have nothing to do with Harvin Coss, and I still pay his rate just to move it to my own door."
"The quarry roads are inside protectorate territory," Beorn said. "Administrative authority over transit routes belongs to this seat. Coss controls those roads through unofficial contracts, not legal rights."
Cerdic went silent.
"I'll issue transit contracts," Beorn said. "Formal haulage agreements between the quarry crews and your guild, under the seat's authority."
Cerdic stood with that information for a long moment.
"He won't stay idle when he notices you are messing with his deals," he said.
"I suspect not."
"The transit contracts must exist before the first batch moves outside his system."
"That's the idea."
Cerdic studied him again. Not with discomfort nor reassurance. It was the steady evaluation of a craftsman testing whether an unseen foundation could actually bear weight.
"You've been here less than a week," he said.
"That is the case."
"And you're moving against a man that has ruled over this city for decades."
Beorn did not need to answer.
Cerdic picked up the cement block again. This time he did not test it. He simply held it while thinking.
"My people don't know the process," he said. "Your designated workers apply it on contracted jobs, and they remain yours."
"Correct."
"And if the contract changes. If I decide the terms stop serving me and I take the work somewhere else."
"You would be using standard mortar again. Unless you deem yourself bold enough to reverse engineer it, of course."
"That's the catch."
"That is the deal," Beorn said. "The process does not leave this contract under any conditions. You know that before entering it."
Cerdic rotated the block once more and set it down.
"You aren't the first one to try and rule this city," he said. "The last one tried to renegotiate the fishing levy. That should tell you how closely he studied the territory."
He met Beorn's eyes. "Tell me why this conversation is different."
"I can't tell you that," Beorn said. "You'll determine it yourself."
Cerdic let the silence remain for a few seconds. Then he looked once more at the cement block. Whatever reasoning had been forming during the last minutes finished resolving.
"Send me the written terms tomorrow," he said. "Someone at my door before midday. The transit contract must already be in the documents before I move a single batch outside Coss's deal."
He extended his hand. Beorn took it.
The secondary road outside was busy when they stepped back onto it. The high quarter had reached its midday rhythm. Godric and Weard returned to their positions as the group reassembled along the road.
Aestrith moved up beside him on his left.
Neither of them spoke. The street continued around them exactly as it had before, unaware of what had just changed inside the storeroom behind them.
The quarry roads were the immediate issue now. The transit contracts had to be written before Cerdic moved his supply. That meant before Coss noticed what he was doing. That meant quickly.
The legal authority was clear.
The difficult part was the timing. The contracts had to be written, delivered, and active before the quarry foremen received any threat from Coss.
He needed someone familiar with the roads north of the walls. Someone who already had working relationships with the quarry crews. Someone who did not owe prior obligations that could be called in.
Another name to add to the list.