With nineteen minutes leftover on the Harrowby team’s midday window, the scrubbed pine table in Sister Merrow’s washroom became a hands-on correlation bench. At Imran Bell’s direction, they laid three independent records side by side across the boards: Kel Dorr’s approved tracing of Schedule C-9 from the College construction archive, Pella’s leather-bound sound transcript of every pulse and syllable heard from the river presence Senn since Day Three. Ada Morland’s pressure gauge log of the pressure surges in the Lowbank baked-clay drains.
Thirteen-year-old Tavi stood at the wall slate with three colors of chalk—white for the College’s skimming dates, blue for Senn’s fragmented messages, and red for the cellar heat spikes—while Korr Var checked every timestamp against the Guildhall tide-clock register.
“Take the last fourteen days since Pella first opened the washroom arch,” Imran said. He ran his forefinger down the bottom tail of Schedule C-9. There, Kel had copied the current month’s daily fine-tuning entries from the annex crate. “Read the exact hour of every high-gain skimming cycle Master Sorell ordered after the Witnessed Walk in the Old Ferry Intake.”
“Entry One: Day Eight, nineteen hundred hours,” Kel Dorr read aloud from the thick parchment margin. “High-gain ringing skim started to offset lower intake check leak. Duration forty minutes. Yieldone point four pattern units.”
