The guild sent a spokesperson at midday.
She came through the yard gate while the crowd was still thinning, past the board with its chalk figures and the dormitory children who had stayed by it after the reading. She was a woman of about fifty in the guild’s grey coat, with a brass chain of office at her collar and a satchel over one shoulder. Mara had never learned her name. She had seen her at the hearing, at the end of the guild’s long table, saying nothing.
She walked past the anvil without asking for Tavin. She came straight to the common bench where Mara and Eshel were working, and stood across it from them, and put her satchel down.
“The guild has met,” she said. “This morning. After the broadcast, and after your board.”
Mara straightened from the gauge rack.
“The guild supported your brace,” the spokesperson said. “At the hearing. With conditions. Supervised access, coolant tested, the method on the bench.” She glanced at the pinned sheets on the cork strip. “You’ve kept the conditions. I’ll say that.”
“But,” Mara said.
“But the guild has withdrawn its support,” the spokesperson said. “As of this morning. Until you can offer a physical alternative.”
