Suth asked for six live reeds, a fish basket, and something waterproof that nobody loved.
The last item delayed them.
Deren offered an old sail. Merla offered the skin that covered her winter grain. Veyna offered a torn awning from the cookhouse and insisted that its owner had stopped loving it years before. They chose the awning, tested it with water, and found three leaks nobody had remembered.
Chaska patched them while Ysabet and Suth worked on the reeds.
The singer’s breathing arch rose above the surface during each cycle, but the passage behind it lay low enough to flood. They needed a small reserve of air that could move with them. The basket would support a cloth hood. Living reed stems, kept in water at their roots and open at the top, would help Suth keep that air from being squeezed away at the first contraction.
“It is an air pocket,” she said. “Not a second pair of lungs. If you see the cloth pulling inward, leave.”
“How long?” Ysabet asked.
“I won’t give you a number you can die trusting.”
