Chapter 10: Rowan's POV: The Pawn House

Rowan's POV

On the twentieth day, I drove to Silverthorn without telling anyone why.

Morwen thought I was visiting the Council clerk.

That was half true. I had also been thinking about her mother's cuff for six days.

She had mentioned it only once.

She was feeding Lark by the fire and said, to nobody, "I wish I still had it for her."

I had been awake most of that night.

The pawn house stood on a side street behind the grain market.

It had iron bars on the windows and a bell on the door.

The broker behind the counter was a heavy man with a magnifying lens pushed up on his forehead.

"Alder," I said. "Six years ago. A woman's gold cuff, pawned to cover a blood-debt."

He frowned. "I don't give out names."

"I'm not asking for names. I'm asking for the cuff."

I laid three times its value on the counter.

His eyes dropped to the money, and then they dropped to a ledger he kept under the till.

He opened it and ran his finger down the page.

Then he stopped.

"That one is not for sale," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because it's not mine."

He turned the ledger around.

Six years ago, Morwen Alder had pawned a gold cuff.

A week later, a second line had been written beneath it in a different ink.

Held on account of Wexley Grain. Do not sell. Do not melt. Do not release to the pledger.