The first person to copy the new sleeve drawing at North Tally was a woman whose workshop could not afford to buy one.
Her name was Ossa Min, and she repaired carts below the eastern road. She had come to the public counter on day 1256 expecting to pay for the paper and the fitter’s time. Elian showed her the general drawing, the measured working range and the note that a fitted sleeve was not safe merely because its outside diameter matched a sketch.
“I can read that,” she said. “I need to know where you checked it.”
Dey’s public notes included the four measuring positions and the actual mating section. Ossa copied both. She did not ask for Idri’s sleeping address, Verit’s spare key or a route to the cooling well after dark. The stolen private operator sheet had carried none of the information that made her first sleeve more likely to be sound.
Iven watched her transfer the section onto scrap board. She held the pencil in a hand marked by old burns. Her letters were uneven, the dimensions careful. He could imagine a careless reviewer calling the page unprofessional while missing that she had checked the thickness twice.
