The first thunder reached High Sill before the rain.
The carrier had covered twenty-four kilometers from Three Wells over its first afternoon and the next full road stage. On the evening of day 1297, its driver stopped beneath the station’s outer awning and asked the keeper about the shelf ahead. The eight-day Gate booking remained in the manifest. So did the driver’s right to stop when the road became unsafe.
Tamis Orden showed him the high-water marker beside the loading yard. Its little catch cup was already filling from rain on the upper ridge, though the yard below stayed mostly dry. Water from that ridge would reach the road in less than an hour.
“We stay,” the driver said.
He did not ask Iven whether a strong arm could make a wagon ignore the ridge.
High Sill stood beside a natural heat throat. Its outer buildings used a small controlled exchange to warm the sleeping room and keep the road-water pump from freezing in colder weather. The larger vent continued uphill through its own stone channel. Human handles could stop the station’s water feed. They could not close the earth.
Tamis had two assistants, a regular winter stock account and an inspection book dated in her own hand. The station’s separate archive service agreement ran from day 1220 through day 1400. It had paid for spare seals, an operator’s course and the new loading-yard warning marker. She had chosen the actual service terms. She was neither Venn’s mindless extension nor…
