He did not tell Mara exactly what had formed in his mind. He only asked for copies of the regulations and whether written notice would make things cleaner. “Cleaner legally,” she said. “Not necessarily otherwise.” For the first time, Elias laughed.
He left her office and walked straight to the Rusted Bell, the tavern below the shipyard. Bram was there, nursing a beer he could barely afford. Tess sat beside him, repairing a glove with black thread and a needle held between her teeth.