Pella picked up the two halves of the broken bronze collar, turning them over in her hands. The metal had lost the unnatural, greasy shaking that had characterized it for thirty years. It was now ordinary bell-bronze. It was cold, heavy, and inert, smelling only of damp copper and ancient solder.
‘The College taught us that an empty vessel retains an astral empty pocket,’ Corvin said, dipping his quill into the black ink to record the physical measurements. ‘They told us that if a spirit departs, the void draws in chaos demons that poison the water supply.’
‘An empty bucket doesn’t draw in demons, Corvin,’ Pella said. She set the two halves of the collar onto Varo Nenn’s balance scale. ‘An empty bucket draws in whatever you pour into it. If you pour in fear and secrecy, you get panic. If you pour in an honest ledger and clean river water, you get a tool that can be melted down and cast into a church bell.’
Korr Var picked up one half of the collar, tapping it with his wooden rule. ‘We will keep this piece for the Senate test. Master Sorell claims that releasing Senn will drop the High Terrace into the gorge. Then, we will show them this collar. If a quarry spirit can be released with a single hammer blow and a clean conscience, a river spirit can be guided home with proper water gate channels.’
