Liora locked the Reliquary behind her and headed straight for the harbor district.
The afternoon streets were as crowded as ever. Dockworkers pushed handcarts loaded with crates toward the piers while merchants shouted prices over the constant noise of wagons and gulls. The smell of salt hung in the air, mixed with tar and freshly cut timber from the shipyards.
She barely noticed any of it.
Her thoughts remained fixed on a single number.
Two weeks.
That was all the time left before the collection reached Tallowstone.
If Fenwick's translations were accurate, then the transfer itself was not the destination.
It was the beginning.
She reached his house and knocked once.
"Come in," his voice called from inside.
She opened the door.
Fenwick was already seated at the same table where they had spoken several days earlier.
Fresh paper lay before him.
A pen rested loosely between his fingers.
The leather folder containing his translations sat beside him, closed.
