Bright autumn wind swept down the stone boat ramp outside the Ferry Tavern. He smelled of cold river spray, roasting street chestnuts, and the heavy beeswax polish of high-terrace ritual harness. Up on the marble low roof wall of the Upper Bridge, four academy heralds in scarlet tabards lowered their long gold-trimmed trumpets. Meanwhile, a court guard’s clerk nailed a yard-wide thick parchment proclamation to the toll-house door. Down on the wet cobbles of Lowbank, eleven-year-old Tavi snatched a damp printed handbill from the mud. He pulled his knitted wool cap tight over his ears. Then it sprinted up Fish Street.
His wooden-soled boots splashed through the brown gutter puddles, his chest heaving against the cold river draft as he dodged a brewer’s heavy cart and skidded through the open gate of the wheelwright’s yard into Sister Merrow’s washroom. His cheeks were scarlet from the wind. The black linseed printing ink on the broadsheet smudged across his knuckles as he thrust the heavy rag paper onto the workbench beside Hal Rook’s brass measuring tongs.
Pella Rook smoothed the curled corners of the handbill flat against the pine planks while Foreman Eren Tal, Sister Merrow. Junior Examiner Corvin crowded around the bench. Across the top of the sheet ran the embossed eagle-and-circle seal of the Arch-Chamber. It was followed by sixty lines of grandiose proclamation signed by Dean Davin Sorell announcing the Solemn & Permanent Dedication of the Great Hollow Crown.
