Missing Pieces

It wasn't enough evidence to lay the blame at the feet of any one person or group, but it was enough to expose corruption at high levels. Were I permitted to finish the speech in the Great Square two nights prior, I would have encouraged the People to demand an accounting. The salt was still coming into the city. It was done efficiently. Quietly. Under cover of darkness. The Foreign Merchants had their scheduled deliveries, but the missing piece of the puzzle was to whom. On the last day of the Eight Passage Hand, I was fired upon; a warning shot that was meant to scare me off. Still, I continued to press. To make demands. To investigate. Two nights prior, the warning was somewhat more severe. The word 'corruption' was barely off my tongue when I felt one side of my body forced back. The pain was there, certainly, hot and white, throbbing and insistent, but it did not register immediately. My knees buckled when I saw the bolt protruding from my body, the blood quickly spreading out onto the fabric of my tunic. I wanted to speak. I wanted to finish the fucking speech, but my body wanted to crumble to the ground below. While the choice to stand is the domain of any free man, the ability to do so is sometimes compromised. I was aware of the shouting. And the screaming. It was an Assassin. In the crowd or on the rooftops, I do not know. I wanted to laugh. No, it was not funny. It would have been a rueful sort of laugh had I the courage to let it slip, but it hurt to breathe let alone speak. Laughing might have sent me into shock.
It was Savana's men, hirelings and thugs such as Mastavius that cleared the crowd and conducted me from the area. Not the usual sort of protection for a Magistrate of a city such as Ar, but I suppose I am not a usual sort of Magistrate. Elise was there. As was Portia. The Six Girl had the scent of the baths on her. Savana was politely scolding me for my foolishness. Her wealthy confidant, a recent recluse, was cautioning her, in turn, about some foolishness or the other. I remember seeing Tia the Baker briefly before her guard, Carl I think his name is, pulled her away. I don't blame the fellow. The job was not finished. There might have been another shot forthcoming. There was one in the crowd that searched for it. Perhaps many. It never came. It seems an evening of panic, a reminder of our humble place, was the purpose for this latest warning. There is still a piece to this puzzle that needs fitting. Until it is solved, I will draft the paperwork to repeal this tax for a second time. Whether the Administration is involved or not, it does not matter. There is salt. It is in the city. It will be found.
I do not intend to extend my convalescence in this clinic for more than the next few ahn. A fee cart is being fetched. The petitions, applications and other papers from the previous few days, too, are being fetched. I will have to rest, but it will be from my residence in the Anbar.