Fara had been awake since before moonset and was not pleased to see a drawing.
She stood in the lower measuring house with her hair tied up in a yellow cloth, emptying grit from the bottom of a water gauge. Her father sat outside mending the reed blind that kept afternoon sun off the instrument wall.
“If it’s another place to watch,” she told Iven, “you’ve brought it to the wrong house.”
“Ishon said to ask you before drawing the watch.”
“Good. Ask.”
He put the drawing away.
The measuring house stood above a fork where three narrow channels met. Its four gauges were ordinary floats connected to marked rods. A fifth rod lay on a bench with a split wooden head and a carefully polished brass guide.
Nothing here was impressive enough to attract a traveling patron. Everything bore the marks of being used every day.
