The first thing Iven saw of Riven Gate was the road where no road ought to stand.
It ran along the canyon’s upper wall in a pale engineered shelf, disappearing behind a buttress and emerging farther east above a depth filled with brown haze. Below it, a second shelf carried darker traffic. Between them hung cranes, water lines, short lifts and a web of signal posts that made the moving loads look small until a person stepped beside one.
Then the scale returned.
A whole freight bed crossed a gap between two stone faces. Its team waited on the near side while the covered carrying frame took the load alone. People stood at three different controls, each with a clear view of the part they held. A red board stopped the next wagon before its axle entered the working space.
Tavin leaned forward on the carrier bench.
“Somebody’s kept that turn sensible.”
“Somebody’s had practice,” Neri said.
The freight descended toward the western receiving ground.
