The quartermaster glanced up from his notes to make sure that Owain was paying proper attention. “Three hundred hams, the same again of bacon, six hundred loaves of twice-baked bread. . .” “Hard as rock,” rumbled Bordeall. “One hundred seventy sacks of grain, milled, and three hundred sacks of grain, unmilled,” continued the quartermaster, choosing to ignore the comment. “Ten blocks of sea salt and thirty-three kegs of olive oil. As to livestock, my lord, we’re currently bursting at the seams. I’ve rented additional space down in Fishgate. Two warehouses for five silver coins a month and three coins a month, respectively. Not a bad deal, if I may say so.” “Yes, yes,” said Owain, trying not to fidget in his chair. “Just tell me what the final tallies are.” Rain slashed down outside the window of his office. It had been raining all night and it gave no sign of letting up.
