The first beam arrived with its owner’s name written on the end.
Not a maker’s stamp. A large black mark painted fresh over old tool scars, followed by a second mark showing which face belonged upward when it went back into the shed.
Iven liked it immediately.
The carrier crew had brought the agreed timbers down from High Net in two stages. They had not forced a loaded wagon onto the broken crossing to prove they were delivering. Their temporary carrying sleds now stood on the wide dry approach, with the last length of the journey still ahead of them.
Bey inspected the joints while Neri read the owner’s lifting notes.
“No shortening,” the road worker said.
“No need,” Neri answered. “We keep the old ends outside the new seats.”
The temporary bridge would rest on the exposed stone sockets, with broad packing to spread the load without cutting a fresh notch. After the freight passed, it would come apart. The ridge path would remain a reed cutters’ road, not a new company possession established by the weight of the first wagon.
