Once the lesser lifting-spirit’s clay token rested safely on the storage shelf and the magnetic-pull circuit to the Hollow Crown was dead, the ethical lesson of the Courtesy Workshop proved its practical building worth a second time. Had Pella given in to her first flash of anger and pried the live bronze yoke off the arch with a wrench, she would have destroyed a helpless working spirit and cracked the resonator bar. By taking four minutes to honor the spirit’s bounded consent and finish its lift, the entire draining rig had been rendered as harmless and inert as cold scrap iron.
Foreman Eren Tal climbed the step-bench with his two-inch box wrench and a strip of thick saddle-leather to pad the jaws. Working with steady, even torque, he backed off the four steel set-bolts holding Master Sorell’s thirty-pound bronze draining clamp across the top of the Courtesy Arch. He lifted the heavy yoke clear of the brass top door beam, and laid it on the floor beside the wall cables.
Pella climbed up beside Eren with her pocket magnifying glass and her father’s brass measuring tongs, her heart beating fast as she inspected the upper deep ring bar where the clamp’s teeth had bitten into the metal.
