The debate on the Courtesy Workshop Charter lasted two hours under the midday sun. But it wasn’t the fierce, desperate battle that had accompanied the repeal of summoner prerogative yesterday. The physical evidence presented during the hearing—the snapped collars, the crumbled granite, the jar of boiling salt water, and Pella’s smudged slate—had burned away the intellectual foundations of the old order like morning mist before a fire.
Preceptor Vardis made one final, shrill try to amend Article Five from the upper academy tier, proposing that the Lead Worker position be subordinated to the College High court. “To grant four common mechanics in a fish storehouse independent emergency dispatch power without an academy review board is to abdicate civic responsibility!” Vardis declared, his pale hands trembling. “Who will supervise their potion-made counts?”
Master Mason Vance of the Builders’ Guild stood up from his bench, his broad shoulders blocking Vardis’s view of the dais. “We’ll supervise their counts, Teacher! We’ll supervise them with plumb-lines, spirit levels, and water-gauges! For fourteen years, your academy review board supervised Davin Sorell. Meanwhile, he cracked the foundations of Fish Street and lied about the heat! We’ve had enough of your watch! We want people who know how to tighten a bolt!”
