Han took Lian’s earlier sketch to the rear terrace and compared it with the route she had drawn the night before. The low doorway opened onto stairs that descended toward the harbor. From the dining porch, the front gate stayed in view, but the rear stair disappeared around a wall of dark stone. Han took the stairs down to the first turn, checked the handrail, and returned. They were steep but wide enough for a person carrying a basket. A second landing opened toward the harbor signal post. She marked where a keeper could pause without blocking someone moving up from below.
“The guard on the porch can see the front,” Han said. “A keeper on this landing could signal the village without crossing the patriarch’s rooms.”
The lamp mounted above the stair had a bronze shutter and a cloudy lens. Han checked the shutter’s hinges. “The light would be hard to read in rain.”
Muo’s attendant, Seli, came out of the side passage. “Do you need something?”
“May I clean the outer glass? We won’t open the winch room.”
Seli fetched a cloth. Yan held the lamp housing steady while Han raised the shutter. He wiped salt from the lens rim. A thin line of clear glass appeared beneath the grime.
