Iven went down the water stair in full view.
He wanted Rell to see him coming. The commander’s projector faced the open approach, his shielded riflemen held the higher terrace and his fuel jars waited beneath the work shed. None of those advantages improved if Iven obligingly crept into an unknown side passage.
The upper approach, however, no longer carried the houses’ only water.
Neri’s access board was in place. Linn’s crew had cleaned the bypass screen before dawn. The cistern stood above its protected mark. A separate hose ran from the overflow trough to the lower terrace, where local workers waited behind a sound wall.
They had a way to keep water moving and a way to fight a fire.
Iven had a way to fight the man who had made both necessary.
He seated lattice shell, thermal curtain, turbine burst, compression lance, hammer ram and winch draw. The rebuilt lance’s sacrificial collar shone a little brighter than the older shaft. An ordinary hook and line hung from his cuff. His graft was healthy and well recovered, its reserve close to the capacity he had conditioned through months of work.
No external station held his strength for him.
