The outer seat came out of the city.
Not out of its fastenings. The older material behind it lifted in a great pale curve, carrying the human iron with it. For an instant the waiting bay tilted toward Iven. People reached for one another. A bag slid across the boards and struck a woman’s ankle.
Then the outer half of the apron went down.
Iven saw Anja turn toward the inner landing. Saw the measuring board leave her hand. The distance between her and the sound floor opened faster than any person could run.
He drove a spring step along the sound inner strip toward her. She was still far beyond his precise graft reach, with no line already joining them.
The section beneath her broke away as he landed.
A roar rose from below, boards and iron striking lower structures, human voices falling through it. Iven could not separate the sounds. He could see the edge nearest him still attached at one twisted inner member, six people clinging to a rail that was beginning to rotate outward.
He put his force there.
