The slums at that hour carried the smell of cold ash from the previous night's braziers. The scent had absorbed into the stone and lingered there, stubborn and familiar.
Most doors were still shut, which suggested the district had not fully started its day yet, but a handful of people were already moving through the narrow passage between buildings.
Aestrith walked ahead of him with her cloak drawn close around her shoulders. Something about her posture had changed.
Beorn noticed it immediately, though it took him a moment to identify the difference. She carried herself lower than usual, her stride less direct. It was not hesitation, exactly, but an adjustment.
She took turns through the narrow streets without glancing at landmarks. That meant she was navigating from memory. She had mapped this section of the city during her time here, and she still had that map in her head.
The slums worked differently depending on whether you were passing through or actually living in the district. Aestrith moved like someone who belonged to the second category.
Beorn kept to her right shoulder and let the street speak for itself.
"How did you find him?" Aestrith asked.
"Supply records in the archive," Beorn said. "Levy payments going back twelve years. The volume never grew and never shrank enough to attract attention."
He considered the pattern again as he spoke. "That kind of consistency doesn't happen by accident."
She took two more steps before responding.
"So he made himself invisible."
"In a way," Beorn said. "The most ordinary are invisible."
She didn't reply.
At the end of the row she turned left.
The house Dunna, the supplier, used looked exactly like the four buildings beside it. At first glance there was no difference.
But if you watched the right details, differences emerged. The threshold was swept clean. The door hinge aligned properly instead of sagging.
Small things, each one only a few minutes of work. The kind of maintenance that only stayed if someone repeated it every day for years.
The door opened before they reached it.
That answered one question immediately. Dunna had been expecting them.
The man standing in the doorway forced Beorn to revise his earlier assumptions. He was compact and weathered, likely past forty. His hands showed the marks of two decades of labor.
More important were his eyes. They moved quickly, finishing a full observation of both visitors before he stepped aside and allowed them in.
Inside was a single room built for work, with one table and two stools.
An account book lay open on the table at the place where Dunna had stopped writing. A cup sat beside it, steam faintly visible. Still warm.
The shutters were cracked just enough to admit the morning light. Dunna had clearly been in the middle of his own work when they arrived.
That had some use for Beorn before the man had spoken a single word.
Dunna shut the door and took position on the far side of the table. His hands rested loosely at his sides.
He allowed the silence to reign, waiting to see who would break it first.
"I've been watching the builders' guild," Dunna said at last.
His voice stayed low, the kind of voice formed by long practice at staying out of the radar.
"I've built a working idea of what this visit is about."
"Then I'll keep this direct," Beorn said. "No reason to waste your morning."
Dunna considered that.
"That depends on how the conversation goes."
He glanced at Aestrith once. The look lasted only a moment, but it was enough for him to form an impression. Whatever adjustment he made to that impression, he kept it to himself.
"I need a limestone supplier," Beorn said. "Someone who knows the quarry roads north of the walls and has working relationships at the quarry end who has no existing deals Coss can call in." He looked at Dunna. "Your supply record from the archive fits that description."
Dunna was silent for a moment. The kind that he was thinking something.
"The quarry access roads run through Coss's contracts," he said. "Every supplier who moves stone through this city goes through his network."
"His control is informal," Beorn said. "He has the routes through deals with the crew chiefs, not through a contract. A protectorate transit operation changes the rules those crew chiefs operate under."
Dunna set his cup down. He watched Beorn speak attentively.
"Right now they're informally accommodating a convenient deal. Once the operation exists, continuing under Coss means they are knowingly working against the authority of the seat."
Dunna studied him further. His expression had not changed, but something behind it had.
"And you have ways to enforce those rules?" he said.
"I will have them."
He picked up the cup, held it for a moment without drinking, then placed it back in exactly the same spot.
"He'll threaten the quarries before your contracts are formally under operation," Dunna said. "He has relationships there that go back further than any document you plan to reference for."
"That's why the contracts go into the record before a single batch moves," Beorn replied.
"Once the record exists, any challenge he makes becomes public. He would be opposing the protectorate on practice."
Beorn let the implication settle.
"That's not a fight he chooses. Unless he decides you won't be here long enough for it to matter."
Dunna delivered the statement without hostility. Just a risk identified plainly.
"The previous three representatives didn't remain in the seat long enough for something like this to produce results."
"The previous three didn't secure a contract with the builders' guild."
The silence that followed shifted in tone.
Dunna was working through the implication. Beorn waited and let him reach the conclusion himself.
"You got Cerdic," Dunna said finally.
"We have signed terms."
Dunna exhaled slowly through his nose.
His hands moved to the table and rested flat against the wood. His shoulders settled as he processed the new information.
Cerdic had spent decades in Ashmark. His guild had survived broken contract crews, aggressive territory disputes, and the turnover of three representatives without committing itself to anything lasting.
If Cerdic had chosen to back this plan, then he had evaluated the risks carefully. He was not a man who rushed that kind of decision.
That realization carried more weight than any argument Beorn could make.
Aestrith had been leaning quietly against the wall, observing.
Now she spoke.
"We knows the roads Coss doesn't bother watching."
Dunna turned his head toward her.
She met his gaze plainly. She did not elaborate. She didn't soften the statement or explain it further.
Dunna looked back at Beorn.
The final objection he had been circling concerned the practical control of the roads. Coss might ignore documents and rely on his existing dominance.
But Aestrith had just pointed out something important. There were routes Coss did not monitor.
He stayed silent a moment longer.
Then he pressed both palms firmly against the table.
"I want the transit contract written before I move anything," he said. "My own crew will handle the first shipments, and they'll follow my schedule. Payment terms must be agreed before the first batch leaves the quarry."
His gaze remained fixed on Beorn.
"I've worked on enough handshakes to understand what they're worth."
"Reasonable," Beorn said.
"And one more condition," Dunna continued.
"When your program expands, I want preference on the supply contracts."
He leaned back slightly.
"I've watched too many informal deals disappear when circumstances change."
"Agreed," Beorn said.
Dunna lifted the cup again and took a drink.
When he set it down, he placed it carefully in the exact position it had occupied before.
He did not offer his hand.
Instead, he reopened the account book to the page he had been working on when they arrived.
Outside, the slums had moved fully into the morning.
Small stalls had appeared in open doorways. The lingering smell of ash from the braziers was fading, replaced by fresh bread and something frying at a stand two buildings down.
Aestrith stepped beside Beorn as they left, offering no comment about the contract they had just secured.
They walked half a block through the growing noise of the street.
"The secondary roads you know," Beorn said.
Aestrith said nothing.