The fifth watch was approaching. The air in the lower foundry smelled of burnt incense and ozone.
Lin Tao sat cross-legged on the upkeep staging beneath Cauldron 084. His back was pressed against the curved bronze belly of the vessel. In his right hand, he held the newly forged star-iron sound signal rod. In his left, he held his land-mapper metal pen. Its star-white-gold micro-needle was pressed firmly against the copper wall of the intake salt water pipe.
Beside him, Tie Shan stood guard on the narrow high walkway, his heavy star-iron pry-bar resting across his good right shoulder.
The giant’s dark eyes swept the surrounding walkways. It watched for any wandering junior alchemists or patrol guards. In the distance, the grand drums of the Conclave were beginning to beat. A slow, steady beat that signaled the opening of the royal tribute batch in the main tiers. Every drumbeat rang through the floor plates, making the loose coal dust dance on the walkways. Overhead, silk banners stitched with crimson flame dragons snapped wildly in the rising hot drafts.
Lin Tao ignored the drums, focusing entirely on the sound feedback in his left ear.
He raised the signal rod and tapped the narrowed tip against the copper pipe rim.
