The cutting tool fitted beneath the distorted strap with almost no room to spare.
Iven crouched on the broad workshop floor, set its edge against the marked face and checked the timber packing once more. The frame’s weight rested on the crib. The old strap was no longer carrying it.
“Ready?” asked the wright.
Iven nodded.
Eight charges brought the cutting force along the edge. Steel parted. He caught the loose end before it struck the floor and lifted the tool away.
The wright looked down through the opened gap.
“That saves taking the side off.”
“It saves putting the side back on.”
