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Chapter 78: R
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... ugh it toward the Mint’s salt house, where blocks from winter were kept under sawdust for dye vats and meat stalls. The place looked like a granary for snow: timbered bays, slate roof sweating cold, a foreman in seal-brown apron counting notches on a hoist.
Scale’s note named the foreman—Kier, Preservation Quarter—authority over ice deliveries and brine permits. He met them beside a chute where shavings curled like pale petals. His voice had the flat care of someone who kept rot from win ...
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