At half past ten, Iven handed the relief cord to a woman who knew the turn better than he did.
She took the current count, checked the return path and asked whether any household still waited in the side bay. He showed her the two outstanding messages. One had a reply coming from the care shelters. The other belonged to a family whose last worker was finishing an agreed clinic order.
“Then go,” she said. “I’ll shout if the city needs your particular face.”
He smiled and left her the sound working place.
Tavin’s office had acquired a second lamp and lost its remaining clear surface. Brin stood at the receiving board with Nessa, reading the last completed figures before another courier added his sheet. The work had stopped being a collection of possible routes. It was a city-sized movement with hours already spent and people actually on the other side.
Iven put his support note beneath the lamp.
“Crew clear for the night,” he said. “Second set ready. Harl has the isolated model trial.”
Tavin nodded toward a chair. “Sit while you’ve got the opportunity.”
