The heat, the sulfur vapors, and the relentless sound pounding of the bubbling blast standing wave were exacting a terrible physical toll. Pella’s knuckles were white against the iron railing, her breath coming in shallow, wheezing gasps, her vision blurring at the edges with dark, swimming spots of tiredness.
She tried to advance along the narrow high walkway toward the lower bearing pipe rim. But her left knee buckled under her. Before she could fall onto the shaking iron grating, Sister Merrow’s powerful arms caught her around the waist. She hauled her backward with the unbending strength of a river laundress.
‘That is enough, Pella!’ Merrow shouted, her voice cutting through the roar of the water. ‘You have been breathing boiling soda for forty-eight minutes. Your skin is red as a boiled lobster, and your heart is hammering like a runaway water-mill!’
‘Merrow, wait... I have to measure the pipe rim bending...’ Pella protested, struggling weakly in the nurse’s grip.
‘The pipe rim will be there in twenty minutes, girl!’ Merrow barked, dragging her toward the heavy bronze back gate. ‘A dead apprentice can’t read a fine-scale! You come out of this steam right now, or I will tie you to a hand-barrow and have Sergeant Kray carry you down the hill!’
