At ten in the evening, in the dry shelter of the cooperage loft, Pella and Korr Var organized the twenty-four local tradesmen who would operate the three shutdown stations. These were not scholars or summoners. They were the practical men of Lowbank who knew how to handle heavy timber, turn rusty screws, and keep their heads when iron groaned under load.
Eren Tal was assigned Station One on the intake throttle, supported by Kel Dorr and four experienced draymen whose massive shoulders were accustomed to holding runaway teams on the slipways. Pella took Station Two on the bypass water chute, with Miller Tom and four veteran coopers who understood the mechanics of hoops and wedges. Korr Var took Station Three on the balance weight buffer, helped by Senior Examiner Varo Nenn and four river watermen who had spent their lives managing locks and weirs.
On the white-washed wall, Ada Morland’s training diagram had been copied in bold black ink. It laid out the set of lever strokes, the pressure gauge thresholds. The exact stop-signals that would halt the operation if a seam parted.
‘Rule Number One,’ Pella told the assembled men, her voice ringing clear in the loft. ‘Nobody tries to be a hero. If you hear three short blasts on the whistle, or if the red light flashes on your station slate, you drop your wrench, step onto the safety platform, and wait for the signal. If a valve jams, you don’t force it with a six-foot cheater pipe…
