Chapter 811: Morning

The morning after the visit to the house, Beatrice left her father resting in the ward and brought his list to the claims office. Two men were arguing at the door.

One wanted it closed so the staff could finish the cases already inside. The other had brought a woman whose papers had burned with her home.

"Come back when you have something we can compare," the first man said.

"With what?" the woman asked.

Beatrice recognized the woman before she made out the name on her damaged card. She had delivered supplies to the shop twice, always complaining that her cart cost more to repair than the goods were worth.

"Your payment receipts," Beatrice said. "The ones from our company should still be in the shop."

The woman turned toward her.

"They took my cart too."

"Tell me who took it."

"That is another matter," the clerk said. "We have people waiting for the property releases."

"Yes. She needs a cart to work while you decide hers."

Beatrice went inside and put her father’s list on the table. It contained people they owed, what he remembered owing them, and which records could confirm it. She had expected to spend the morning working through those names.

Instead, she found three messages addressed to Alex beside the bank manager’s chair.

One asked for a transport, another for permission to store bedding in an empty shop. The third concerned a broken loading platform.

"Did anyone ask the owner?" she said, lifting the bedding request.

"He wants payment."

"Then why are you asking Alex whether the room is empty?"

The clerk looked irritated.

"The soldiers said the Progenitor would decide."

Beatrice read the owner’s name. Her father knew him. He had refused to extend credit to their company when the fraud began taking everything from it, but he had never pretended the refusal was a favor.

"Where is he?"

"Outside. He has been asking when he can get back into his building."

"Bring him in."

The clerk glanced at the bank manager. The older man moved the untouched request away from the stack he was reading.

"We might as well hear him."

The shop owner entered with a vampire guard following him. He looked at the papers, then at Beatrice’s injured leg.

"Your father sent you?"

"He gave me the names of people we need to pay."

"I haven’t come for his money."

"I know. I want to hear about your room."

The man pointed toward the guard.

"He says the army needs it. I ask how long, he says until they don’t. I ask who will repair the door, he says someone will tell me."

"The door was already damaged," the guard said.

"Then write that down before you put your people in it."

Beatrice pulled an empty sheet toward her.

"What do you need to reopen?"

The owner frowned, as though surprised that someone had finally asked what he needed.

"Two carriers and somewhere to put the stock from the back room. I can’t leave it under that roof."

"The front room is safe?"

"It was checked. Ask the man who checked it, instead of making me stand outside again."

The bank manager sent the clerk for the inspection. Beatrice asked the owner how much floor space the stock would take once it was out.

By the time Selene arrived, they had stopped arguing about whether anyone could use the building. They were arguing about who would move the owner’s goods.

Beatrice looked up in relief.

"His stock can go in the front, with the bedding beside it. He will let us use the space left over if someone helps him move his goods."

"For how long?" Selene asked.

"Until he can reopen. We check with him again tomorrow."

The owner tapped the sheet.

"And no one takes the stock because it happens to be beside the bedding."

Selene read what Beatrice had written, then looked at the guard.

"Can your two men move it without leaving a post uncovered?"

"Yes."

"Then help him. Tell the receiving staff when they can send the bedding."

The guard started to object, then stopped at Selene’s expression.

"I’ll take them now."

The owner took his copy before following him.

Beatrice watched the door close. She had expected the bargain to become harder once someone with real authority entered the room.

Selene placed the transport request beside her hand.

"Do you know who has a cart?"

"The woman outside used to."

"Find out where it went."

***

Alex arrived while Beatrice was telling a quartermaster that the woman needed to recognize her own cart before anyone offered her somebody else’s.

The quartermaster had a list of recovered vehicles. Beatrice had descriptions from three people who had lost them. Neither list had helped much until they put the owners beside the people using the carts.

The woman from the door found hers on the second image.

It was carrying water containers to a shelter.

"I want it back," she said.

The quartermaster frowned.

"They still need the water."

"Then hire me to take it."

He opened his mouth, then glanced at Selene.

"Can she work that route?" Selene asked.

"She knows it better than my men."

"Ask her price."

The woman named one. The quartermaster called it ridiculous. Their argument continued, but this time both knew what they were bargaining over.

Alex stayed by the door until Selene came to him.

"Any reason you needed me here?" he asked.

"Those messages were sent before I arrived."

He looked toward the nearly empty stack.

"I’m starting to like you answering them."

"You can like it enough to stop your guards telling everyone only you can decide."

Alex looked at the nearest guard. The man suddenly became interested in the corridor.

"I’ll tell Dorian."

"Tell the people coming here too."

Beatrice finished with the quartermaster and joined them. The woman would take her own cart to the shelter, make the water delivery for an agreed payment, then decide whether she wanted another trip.

The woman tucked the payment note inside her coat, then stopped beside Beatrice.

"Will you be here when I come back?"

"I came to check my father’s accounts."

"Someone needs to be here. Yesterday they sent me from a guard to a clerk and back to the same guard."

The quartermaster grunted. "Leave me someone who knows which owner I’m supposed to find. I can move carts. I can’t guess who lent one to whose brother."

Beatrice glanced at Selene. The commander had heard both of them.

Alex asked Beatrice about her father.

"Back at the ward," she said. "He wanted to sleep at home. The water isn’t working, and the healer said he still needs someone nearby."

"He listened?"

"After I told him I wasn’t carrying him upstairs."

Alex smiled. Beatrice seemed to have little patience left for people who made it difficult to help them.