The nitre sample lay in a small cloth folded into quarters, the way the courier had packed it for the trip. Beorn opened it on the desk and looked inside.
White crystals, uneven in size, with the look of a mineral that had formed slowly inside sealed stone.
He lifted the cloth and brought it close enough to catch the smell, faint, with the sharp note that set it apart from an ordinary deposit.
He did not need to force the recognition. It was already there, the clean certainty of stored information that did not need to be remembered before it surfaced.
He knew the material by sight and by smell. He knew what it became.
He set the cloth down and picked up the quill, then wrote the confirmation in the margin.
Below that he added a shorter note. The convoy north of the second quarry had been attacked on the route.
The militia escort pushed back the assailants. Seven were injured, none dead. Their side wasn't so fortunate.
