The weather tower stood above Pinehook’s western slope. Its keeper, Nara, had already brought the morning readings down to the lower room. She laid a narrow strip of marked paper on the table beside a brass pressure gauge.
“The upper atmosphere has folded inward by this much,” she said. “The pressure line changed faster overnight than it did during the last season.”
Wei leaned over the strip. “How long before the storm?”
“The tower doesn’t give an exact date. But the change is consistent with weeks, not seasons.”
Yan traced the newest mark with his eyes. He wanted to move the convoy and begin repairs at once. Nara placed a hand over the instrument before he could reach for it.
“You can read the mark,” she said. “Don’t move the gauge until the engineers finish checking it.”
One of the local engineers compared the gauge with a second instrument. Another checked the tower’s stored readings, then repeated the measurement with a weight on the balance arm. The needle settled at the same place.
“We agree with the first reading,” the engineer said. “The instrument is working.”
