The Last Assay

Alder Venn's final assay, written by a failing lamp deep in the Cut — the vein pinched to nothing and the water rising, all his hope reduced to arithmetic and defeat.

Assay, ninth reading, and I will not lie to this page the way I lied to the last four.

The vein is dead. It narrowed to a thread at the twenty-second pace and past that there is nothing in the stone but stone, and nothing under the water but water. I have re-run the crushings twice by a lamp that is nearly as done as I am. There is no seam. There was never enough seam. I chased a shine and a season's luck and I have buried a life and other men's coin in a wet hole in the ground.

Whatever comes to read this — and someone always comes, the deep does not stay empty — know that the Cut is played out. Do not sink another copper after the silver here. It is gone, if it was ever more than my wanting it. I am going up now while the lamp lasts. I do not think I will come back down.

— A. Venn