The cart took the inspection turn because I told the driver the other lane was closed.
It was true. Two ordinary deliveries had been moved to the upper entrance, and the keepers had cleared the lower work door. The board beside my desk pointed toward the inspection bay.
The driver looked at the board, then at the collection book beneath my left hand.
"Private transfer. Lady Thornecroft."
"The papers are being checked at the work gate. Take the bay. Keep the main path clear."
He disliked hearing an instruction from a student. Seeing my name on the academy desk assignment appeared to make him dislike it more quietly. The mule turned. The covered cart rolled past the narrow branch leading toward the lower exit and into the bay where two staff members were waiting.
One of them was a security officer wearing a work coat.
