The reports took the better part of an hour.
Godric delivered them in the compressed event-sequence format that defined his briefings. No editorializing, no judgnt beyond the facts, every item stated and then closed.
The warehouse district operation had created eight arrests across all squads. Three of them were rchants running comrcial fronts for Coss’s supply deals, two deputies who maintained their books, a grain broker whose link to the network was through the salt supply building and was confird against the docunt, a contracted hauler whose road deals dated to years before the city split, and Ald.
The accounts and docunts seized across all squads sat in two stacks on the side table. Beorn had already been sorting through them during the briefing without stopping to listen, which Godric understood to an he was doing both jobs at once.
Godric continue to report. "Harr’s squad found the missing hideout during the district sweep. Two n inside. One dead, one detained."
Beorn made a mark on the map.
"And the soldier from the avenue engagent," he said.
Godric checked the note in front of him before answering. "Still alive, but his lung is barely stable. The field dic needs more ti before he can say which way it goes."
Beorn wrote a note. He did not comnt on it.
He inford a ssenger to have the units in the warehouse district to strengthen their positions while the remaining squads pushed to break whatever hostile presence still existed in the contested blocks.
Godric looked over the map before reporting, "The n who fled the warehouse district in the morning went south."
He kept his eyes on the map as he spoke, one hand resting against the table.
"There’s a chance they divert to the slums to flank the squads there."
Beorn stopped. He looked at the high quarter marks on the map. "It’s an acceptable risk. The push is to occupy key positions. We do not have ti to deal with stragglers."
He set his finger against the upper section of the map.
"We will set up a blockade around the high quarter. No one leaves without permission."
Godric looked up from the papers. "And the supply route from the north district."
"Gone," Beorn said at once. "We can’t worry about civil matters in tis of war."
The runner arrived shortly after with an update from the slums. A patrol on the eastern entrance to the slums’ main passage had been hit one hour ago.
He laid the report down and stepped back.
Bolts from both sides of the passage at the sa ti, two ambushes working together. One militia soldier killed at once, one badly injured, one who returned fire and fell back.
The n had fled before the response squad arrived.
Beorn looked at the slums section of the map. The marks there were the most complex marks on any part of it, and they had not beco simpler.
He added one more.
Minutes after, Col arrived with Ald and delivered the account in event-sequence order. He reported about the avenue, Bron’s warehouse, Ald’s location confird through the accountant, Bron’s family being held as hostages. Wex’s wound dressed and taken care of. He stated each fact in the order it happened and then stopped.
Beorn looked at him directly.
"Comndable work, Captain Col," he said.
Col held still and did not break eye contact.
"I’ll have it noted for when the conflict is over. You and your squad mbers will be appropriately rewarded."
Beorn let that sit for a mont.
"Thank you for your service."
Col took that in without any visible reaction. He nodded once.
Beorn told Godric to give him the room. He and Col left without looking at Ald once.
Ald was standing near the doorway with his hands still bound and his coat pulled flat in front, the rings on both hands catching the lamp’s light. He looked at the room and at the map and at Beorn in that order, the order that told you what a man found more important.
Beorn looked back at him and waited.
Ald said, after a mont, "That went faster than I thought it would."
"How so," Beorn said.
Ald glanced toward the table and the stacks of docunts. "The warehouse district takeover."
He was reading the map, Beorn could see it, the marked positions, the cleared blocks, what the distribution of marks ant about what had already been decided.
"Presumably, you had more information than I ever imagined."
"Perhaps."
Ald stop with that for a mont. Then he asked, "What do you want from ."
"Where Coss is," Beorn said. "What you know that isn’t in those ledgers."
"And what do I get for that," Ald said.
"I won’t execute you, to start."
Beorn said casually. "And I very much can under the cri of treason. But that wouldn’t help much, would it."
"Then you will detain ?"
"Or exile you. I’m thinking about it. Whatever it is, you will stay alive though."
Ald locked Beorn’s gaze. Across Bron’s partition room he had matched Col’s gaze with ease. Here, under the specific pressure of Beorn’s attention and the lamp at his back, the decision behind the gaze was visible even though the gaze itself did not move.
"My properties," Ald said.
"Not yours," Beorn said. "They were seized under my na."
"So I’m a man with nothing left except what’s in my head."
"That is an accurate description of the situation, yes."
Another pause. Ald’s thumbs shifted once against the cord at his wrists, a small involuntary motion. He looked at the high quarter mark on the map.
"He’s in the high quarter."
Ald started to explain. "Has been since the city split. He moves between properties, three or four addresses, different nights, no fixed rotation. I don’t know the specific buildings." He looked back at Beorn. "But he is in the high quarter."
Beorn wrote it down. He did not ask how Ald knew this, because the answer was obvious from decades of close working proximity. He called back into the corridor.
Godric returned. Ald was walked out.
Beorn stood at the map with the room empty around him. The high quarter marks had a specific aning now that they had not had before, a bounded problem with a confird location at its center.
He looked at those marks for a mont and then at the slums section below them, with the question mark he had not yet resolved.
One problem that could be solved. One that would need to be managed.
He picked up the quill.
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