Chapter 11: The Ledgers

The elders' tent was the biggest on the flat, and it smelled of wet canvas and old tobacco.

Five elders sat in a half circle on carved stools.

Maud was the fifth, with her hands folded and her eyes on the floor.

The winter seal chest sat open on a trestle in front of them.

My seal lay on top of the papers, a little brass wolf's head on a ring.

Nessa had carried my ledger crate in, and she set it down in the middle of the rug with a thump.

Somebody had brought me a chair.

I sat in it.

"Ivy Penrose," the oldest man among them said. "The pack thanks you for coming."

"The pack sent a rider to say it would starve me out."

"The pack said nothing of the kind."

"The captain said it. He said it was my name on the hunger."

The elder cleared his throat.

"The stores are held under your seal."

"Without your signature on the release, the hold cannot draw on them before spring. It is a matter of law."

"I wrote the law on the winter stores," I said. "I wrote it three winters ago, because nobody else would."

Nobody argued.

Behind me, the tent flap lifted, and half a dozen captains came in and stood along the canvas wall.

I could feel them looking at the back of my coat.

"Here is what I want," I said.

I held up one finger.

"My ledgers, all eleven, in my own hands before I sign anything. I'll have them copied in Greyhaven if I choose."

A second finger.

"A line in the pack's own record, in ink: Ivy Penrose kept the Hollin winter stores for four years without a single sack lost."

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