The bearing metal moved like cream when the crucible tilted.
Iven had expected a brighter color. The surface was pale and heavy, gathering itself at the lip before running into the heated mold. Yessa’s student held the pouring shank with both hands. Her partner supported its far end. Senna stood close enough to stop them and far enough away to leave the work theirs.
“Steady,” she said.
They were steady.
A thin line of metal rose in the feed opening. Senna lifted one finger. The girl eased the shank back, the stream narrowed and ceased, and the last bright bead trembled against the crucible before dropping into the catch tray.
No one spoke until the pot was safely down.
Then the student let out a breath so long that Lio laughed.
“Did you save all of it for the end?”
