The flywheel rose one finger’s width and stopped.
“Hold,” Borin said.
Four jack operators froze with their hands on the handles. Tem read the gauges in order, calling each measurement aloud. Fara watched the feet of the temporary frame, a strip of paper placed beneath each one to reveal any shift. Iven stood beside the near shaft guide with plate brace, ratchet hold and piston strike seated. The guides he and Jem had made touched the shaft through padded faces; neither carried the wheel’s weight.
“Near side is two marks high,” Tem said.
Borin checked the scale. “Lower it half a mark. Slowly.”
The near jack operator released pressure. The shaft settled. Iven saw the guide move a fraction and adjusted its pin, keeping the bearing surface clear. Tem read the gauges again. This time the values were within the range Borin had specified.
“Lock the jacks.”
Each operator inserted a mechanical stop. Borin inspected all four himself before allowing anyone near the mounting plate. The temporary frame, not Iven’s graft, carried the load. His ratchet imprint was there as a brief safeguard if a guide shifted while a stop was engaged; it was not a substitute for the stops.
