Sect Year 4 · fifth month · day 3 · Ketch Shoal, the well on the flats and the birth-house loft at night
The sump at the foot of the well tower had filled again in the night, and the council’s two men stood in it to their knees with their sleeves rolled to the elbow. They lifted the grey sludge out in buckets. Lin worked beside them with a wooden paddle, scraping the sides where the sea had got into the lining. The mud was cold through his boots. It had a sharp reek of salt water and rot that caught at the back of the throat and stayed there until evening.
He had asked for the work at first light. Nobody on the flats had asked him why. The sump had to be cleared before the next tide came back over the stones, and his hands could do the clearing without him counting anything. He liked that about it. His right hand took the paddle and found the rhythm of the strokes, and his left hung at his side, closing as far as the middle of the palm and no further.
When the paddle needed both hands, he set it against his hip and worked the right alone until the bucket was full.
