Before dawn on day 1157, the woman from Pale Reach named herself Sivet and asked Basen to open the filter cask before she had finished her first cup of water.
“My brother’s at the lower intake,” she said. “He told me to bring back whatever you had. If we wait for another delivery, the upper quarter will be drinking from the wash.”
Basen sat beside the fire with his notebook on his knee. “How many people are in the upper quarter?”
“Three hundred and forty-two when I left. Some may have gone to relatives below.”
“How much water can the lower intake provide?”
“Enough for the lower quarter and the clinic. Not enough for everyone.”
He wrote the numbers down. “The cask belongs to the lower wells at Three Wells. They authorized me to lend half of it.”
Sivet stared at him. “Half won’t bring the upper intake back.”
