Two days later Trafalgar had read the card until the words stopped being words, then put it face down under the lamp and gone back to the ledgers.
the one who brought it up every
He had gone at it the obvious way for two days. The one who brought it up every time, the one who kept raising it, in a meeting or at a table or in some room where it should never have been mentioned.
That had gone nowhere. Half the people in this city brought things up constantly, and none of them had ever been near Nyssara di Myrrhvale's rooms.
The ledger page in front of him was a supply list for the residence floor. Linen, lamp oil, and a column of the same three entries repeating down the whole month.
He stopped with his finger halfway down it.
'It isn't raising a subject. It's carrying something. Up the stairs, to her rooms, every night, for months.'
