He pointed to the stones and the soot. "Law speaks plain here: if a liar talks the smoke lifts, and if a debt hides the ring hisses."

Han saw the fine rise of heat. He heard the faint hiss. The circle was not a story. It was work done right.

"Bring your witness, we will wait one hour, and we will not stand still after that," Han said.

Hanna set two maids to measure the hour with sand and breath. The other five kept the diamond tight and rested in turns.

Xena checked the ground for fresh weight and found a heel print that tried to be a paw. She rubbed it flat and moved on.

The mirror twins stood a coach length back with their heads bowed. Their driver held the lines and tried not to shake.

Bellatrix spoke soft so only Han heard. "Their books say they paid for bait, but the ledger shows a gap where the coin should be."

"Then someone swallowed it," Han said. "Or traded it twice."

The hour sharpened. The morning beat faded to a breath. A woman came from the trees with a staff and a pot of ash.

She wore a collar of iron beads and teeth. Her eyes had the look of a person who forgot less than most.

"My nose is clean because I carry salt for that," she said, and the ash shifted like water.

"Witness," the broker said.

Han stepped one pace toward the ring and stopped. "We buy clean and we pay the price you name if the proof rides with it."

The woman uncorked a leather jar and breathed on its mouth. She nodded once. She set the jar by the ring and looked at Han.

"Why do the bands drum?" she asked.

"So their orders travel, and so their blood does not cook them while they fight," Han said.

"Good. You hear stone and not only wind."

She named the first two people and brought them to the edge of the circle. Thin. Frightened. Alive.

Han did not step in. He told them to come to him. He checked wrists and eyes and a mark behind one ear. The names matched.

Hanna looked over their shoulders at the trees. Her hand hung close to the bell without touching it. Her breath stayed slow.

The witness set the pot of ash on the stone and drew two lines with a finger. "Paid," she said. "Paid clean."

"Three more at noon," the broker said. "The boy with the cough will need work."

"I will do it before we leave," Han said. "He walks in our light."

The woman held out the jar. "Breathe."

Han breathed into it once. She capped it, shook it, and uncapped it. She smelled the jar and looked pleased.

"Your fire leaves room for other fire," she said.

Hanna relaxed a fraction. Xena eased her blade down. Bellatrix ticked marks on the board.

The mirror twins shifted. One touched his pocket and pulled back an empty hand. His mouth tightened.

Han watched and said nothing. The charm in his pocket hummed in the new light. It waited to see who would look for it.

"Two more matters," Han said. "A road oath for those who walk behind us, and a quiet bond for those who want to speak with rivals."

"Do that beyond the stones," the broker said. "The circle has limits."

Han inclined his head and stepped back. He drew a small map in dust with a stick. Ridge. Menhirs. Stream that sank and rose. He marked the times.

"Pace is mine, and if you fall out you leave our shadow," he told the twins.

They nodded fast and looked smaller. Their driver swallowed.

Hanna tied cloth between two low branches and set a bell in the loop. She tapped it with a knuckle. The sound crawled the corner of the mouth and made a tooth hurt. It was the note she wanted.

Bellatrix took their coins and wrote their names beside the oath cut, then pressed a wafer of wax to each and made them bite it. Teeth told truth later.

Xena slipped out to the ridge where the child had run, found a stripe of ash on a root, wiped it clean, and left nothing behind.

The sun pushed the iron color out of the sky. The trees took a gentler shade. The air warmed without smoke.

Han counted the breaths between drums and heard none. He listened anyway.

He looked to Hanna. She gave him the small nod for ready. The nine had eaten and drunk and stood down in turns. The team stamped once and waited.

Han set his palm on the wood of the door and felt the grain and the heat and the weight that would have to carry them to noon.

"Move," he said. "We buy clean and go, and we give no beats to borrow."

The caravan took the first roll forward. The bells did not sing. The road took them as if they belonged.

—

By late morning the ash canopy sifted the light into a slow rain of gray. Smoke climbed and vanished into the leaves. The ring stones wore a thin sheen like cooled breath.

Han brought the caravan back to the edge and stopped one pace off the first stone. He stood where the circle could see his hands. His eyes did not break from the broker's face.

Hanna set the nine in a half-diamond that guarded the team and left a clean lane to the ring. Bellatrix kept the ledger tight against her hip. Xena ghosted the scrub and never let the ridge go cold.

The broker sat on his low stool with his chain of teeth warm in the sun. He had already stacked price stones into neat steps of three. His smile was the patient sort that belonged to people who had seen every mistake twice.

The witness returned with a pot of ash and a jar capped in leather. She walked the stones without looking at her feet. The ring hissed once and settled, which pleased her.

"The hour holds," she said. "Show me work."

Han signaled with two fingers. Denver brought the boy with the cough to the line. The boy's eyes were wide but steady. The clinic band at his wrist had faded to a pale thread.

"This will be loud at first and then it will be a whisper," Han told him. "You will breathe through the mouth and hold the tongue flat."

Hanna stood to the boy's right so he could see her and not the tools. She took his pulse once and twice and nodded. "He is ready if you are," she said.

Han warmed the air between his hands until heat turned heavy and obedient. The Cauldron opened in the narrow space between the boy's ribs and the pull gathered what did not belong. It came as a bitter steam that did not rise far.

Bellatrix counted under her breath so the beats would not run away. Xena watched the lane for anyone who loved the sound of weakness.

Han breathed out a thread of Scarlet and let it lick the edges of the pull. The cough broke into three pieces and lay down. The boy's shoulders loosened. His eyes stopped darting.

"Breathe with me now," Han said. "Slow in. Slow out. If you feel a pinch, tell me."

The boy felt one pinch, said so, and let it pass. The Scarlet went out, the pull folded, and the heat ran into Han's palm and cooled like rain.

The witness lifted the jar and held it open under the boy's next breath. She closed it and shook it and opened it again. "Smoke of fever is gone," she said. "The jar keeps the lie if there is one, and it finds none."

She pinched ash and drew two lines on the stone. The ring hissed once in approval. The broker let the smallest of smiles break the line of his mouth.

"Three more names release," he said. "You bought their roads last night when you killed a debt no one here could lift."

Bellatrix wrote, checked, and wrote again. She matched scars and marks with her left hand while her right turned the pages. She did not ask for help.

The freed woman with the healed brand pressed a coin into Han's palm and tried to close his fingers. He closed them and then opened them and gave the coin to the broker.

"She owes me nothing," Han said. "Pay the circle for the chalk and the patience."

The broker weighed the coin, heard its voice, and flicked it into a cloth purse. "Patience eats well here," he said. "Now comes the noisy part."

A rival merchant walked into view with two guards who had the wrong kind of calm. His sash carried Nevolnik colors faded by weather but not shame. He looked at the freed people as if they had stolen themselves from his pocket.

"This is unlawful seizure," he said. "Caravan liens predate your clinic writ, and they stand under road law. I will have the boy back and the woman as well."

Hanna touched the bell with one finger. It did not ring, but the guards chose to stop two paces short.

Bellatrix opened the ledger to the right page in one motion. "Clinic authority outranks caravan liens under city statute," she said. "That line was revised in spring and stamped by three houses and the court. You can read the teeth if you dislike ink."

The broker smoothed the cloth on his board and turned the slate so the merchant could see. "He writes truth," he said. "Clean sale within the ring breaks your lien as if it never woke. If you drag a claim past the stones, the smoke will sing your shame."

The merchant waved a hand. "I refuse this circle's jurisdiction."

The witness poured a line of ash across his boots. The ash clung to the leather and would not fall. "You stood inside when you spoke," she said. "The ring keeps what it is given, and it was given your voice."

Han did not raise his tone. "We will not argue a story that is already carved," he said. "You can step back into the trees and save your breath."

The merchant tried to smile and found it was stuck. He looked at his guards and did not like what he saw there. He turned his back on the ring and left without grace.

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