Pema led them along the outer ward path after the sky cleared. Ruo walked ahead, using a long stick to test the slick places. The tide was low, but he kept them above the wet line.
“On a spring tide, the lower steps disappear,” he said. “If the water rises while we’re out here, we return by the ridge.”
Han studied the turn in the path. “Show me where you would retreat.”
Ruo pointed to a shelf of rock that led back toward the village. Han marked it on her sketch, then added the harbor and two relay posts. She was careful to leave room for local signals instead of drawing a route that only worked for soldiers.
The relay stones stood in a row above the water. Each one carried a copper fitting, green with salt. The stones passed the ward’s qi outward toward the cliff edge, where the current bent the worst of the storm back toward open water. One marker leaned a few degrees from its base.
“Has it moved since the last storm?” Han asked.
“Not that I saw,” Ruo said. “It was crooked before I was born.”
Pema placed a hand on the fitting. “The copper is worn. This one still carries current, but it will not hold a stronger flow for long.”
