By ten o’clock that night, the Lowbank Courtesy Workshop in Sister Merrow’s kitchen washroom was crowded with coils of wire, jars of animal fat, and four men from the waterfront wagon drivers’ guild.
The large slate chalkboard that Eren had mounted against the lime-washed wall had been cleaned with a damp rag. In the center of the slate, drawn in crisp white chalk lines with the aid of a wooden flat ruler, was the clockwork layout of the Third Gate Relief Bell Relay.
Pella stood before the slate, a stick of soft chalk held between her thumb and forefinger. Above the drawing, in large, neat block letters, she began to write:
THE HAL ROOK MEMORIAL—
A broad, calloused hand reached out and caught her wrist.
Eren Tal didn’t squeeze, but his grip was unbending as an oak clamp. He looked at the chalk letters on the slate, then looked down at Pella, his jaw set in the hard line he used when an apprentice tried to drive a crooked nail into a carriage hub.
“Erase that,” Eren said.
Pella blinked, her arm suspended in mid-air. “Eren, it was his design. He drew the pulley wheels fourteen years ago. He calculated the balance weight.”
