The kitchen was cold. The fires were banked to save wood. We sat around a butcher block table illuminated by the single, dim beam of my Bone Lantern.
"Inventory," I said.
Lyra opened her ledger. She looked tired, but her voice was steady. "We have the copper wire from the library. Fifty yards. We have three crates of low-grade mana crystals Mira recharged. We have the glass plating from the Chimera, cleaned and cut into ingots."
"And us," Gareth added. He flexed his hands. "We have labor. The Undercity always has broken things."
Cael leaned against the cold stove. "We're students, Armand. Going into the Warrens to trade for grain? If the Foundation catches us, they'll expel us for contraband."
"They're already trying to starve us," I said. "Expulsion is just a slow version of death. Hunger is faster."
