Edda refused to lend the cookhouse’s last hauling chain.
Joss had expected an argument about danger.
She gave him one about the stove.
“Its frame is cracked,” she said.
“We use that chain to keep the backplate on.
Take it, and I can’t boil water for the whole quarter.”
He looked at the stove, then at the narrow route he’d drawn through the hinge yard.
“Rope instead.”
“Whose?”
“Dema’s.
I’ll put the replacement on my bill.”
“Ask her first.”
He asked.
She lent him a thick coil on the condition that he didn’t promise to repay it with work from his injured side.
By afternoon, their plan had acquired enough owners that Joss could no longer change it casually.
Nera stayed at the dock to protect the receiver bed.
She showed Joss the catch that would expose one short support without releasing the span.
Sella closed the crossing before its frame moved.
At the yard, Tan and three workers would use the doorway to protect the bridge frame’s exposed side.
Davi would free the receiver half.
Len would keep their escape lane open.
Joss showed Latch where it could ride.
He showed it the repaired straps and the little recess Tan had lined with folded linen.
The temporary hinge splint still rubbed.
Latch touched the recess, moved one foot inside, and climbed in.
Joss closed the safety loop behind it without tightening the loop around its living body.
“We come back with you,” he said.
It tapped the inner edge once.
Cal Rudd watched from the bench, wrists still tied in front.
Edda had recorded his account and fed him.
She hadn’t let him work on any support without someone beside him.
“The hook’s release pulls uphill,” he said.
“They put a stop behind the eye so freight can’t slide back.”
Tan checked the instruction strip Sella had brought.
“We saw the stop.”
“It’s pinned,” Cal said.
“You take the pin, the rail can move.”
Joss asked Davi whether the pin existed on the holding rigs he knew.
Davi nodded and marked its position on the drawing.
At the hinge yard, Tovin had set two clerks behind a rope barrier.
A holding officer stood beside them with an inspection board.
The marshal wanted a recorded public failure.
Before they entered, Tan stopped the trolley behind an empty stall.
“If the ground cracks under our frame, we leave the receiver,” she said.
“Agree now.”
Joss looked toward the rig.
It had cost nearly everything he owned to get this far.
“Agree,” he said.
“Say it to them.”
He told Len and Davi.
Len repeated the stopping point aloud.
Davi checked that the outer lane would stay open behind them.
Tan had set a chock on each doorway wheel and a broad edge under its lower hinge.
If she pushed it against the cradle, it could become a rigid wall while the receiver moved.
They tested the contact once against the stall post, using a sack of broken stone for a harmless load.
Latch watched the panel approach its recess.
It moved a foot away from the pinch point, then rested it on the lined wood.
Joss showed the workers where the creature needed room.
Tovin came to the gate when their trolley rolled out from behind the stall.
Joss drew the papers far enough out of his coat for the marshal to see the seals.
“You have the parcel,” Tovin said.
“Finally.”
“You have the receiver.
Let’s test the right pair.”
Tovin looked at the doorway panel on its dolly.
“Leave that outside.”
Tan stopped it where the lane narrowed.
“It stays between our workers and your hook.
You have your rig.
We have our shield.”
The holding officer examined the dents in the panel and let it stand.
Tan lowered its foot before he could reconsider.
Davi pushed the trolley to the low approach rail while Joss guided its strap path without hauling.
The ground shoes Joss had seen that morning still stood beneath Tovin’s rig.
They weren’t on the same stones now.
Tovin had moved the rig three feet north.
Joss stopped before the frame touched the hook.
His planned pressure path led into the lower runnel.
Tan had laid a timber turn there so a controlled support release would tip the rig’s empty side into its own drainage channel.
The new position put the rig’s third shoe across that timber.
Tovin had noticed the preparation.
“Something wrong?” he asked.
Joss looked at his face.
No smile.
The man had prepared a professional answer to a suspicious piece of wood.
“I’m checking your ground.”
“Certified holding supports.”
“Ground under them isn’t certified.”
The officer raised his board.
“Proceed with the attachment only.
No release until the frame is aligned.”
Tovin signaled one man toward Tan’s shield.
She kept her workers behind it, but there was no chance to reset the timber in the runnel without exposing their plan.
Joss turned his gaze south.
At the edge of the support cavity, floodwater entered a narrower service drain.
Tan had surveyed it that morning while drawing the moving block.
Its stone lip was sound.
Beyond the lip lay scoured brick from the old footing.
Turn the rig south, and its loaded shoe would land on the scoured brick.
Then Davi could free the receiver pin while Tan’s doorway protected the bridge frame.
The turn would bring them nearer the pole men.
They’d need to sacrifice Dema’s rope to hold the turn while Davi removed the pin.
Joss met Tan’s eyes and touched the south edge of the diagram.
She looked at the channel.
Her face tightened.
She knew what he was asking and what it could cost.
Then she wheeled the doorway two feet left.
One of Tovin’s men reached for her dolly.
Davi blocked him with an open hand, letting the clerks see the first shove.
“Attachment only,” the officer repeated.
Joss set the frame’s lower loop around the receiver eye.
Tovin’s man fastened the upper hook himself, pulling the damaged seam toward its widest point.
The pressure rose.
Joss touched the strap and kept it within the old frame.
He had room beneath eighty, but only while the ground did its share.
“Let the rig bear it,” Tovin said.
“It will.”
Tan had reached the southern channel.
She threaded Dema’s rope through the rig’s exposed lower turnring, using the doorway to hide her hands.
Len took the rope’s far end around a sound post.
Nera wasn’t here to rescue a wrong choice.
She was back at the dock keeping the receiver bed safe for what they brought home.
Joss’s ribs hurt each time he bent toward the strap.
He stopped bending and made Tovin’s worker lower the hook instead.
“You wanted a test,” he said.
“Use the height on the plate.”
The officer looked at the plate and agreed.
The hook came down.
The loaded rig leaned toward its southern shoes.
Joss put his hand on the recessed catch he’d already watched Nera turn.
Tovin’s expression changed.
He understood the new angle a heartbeat before Joss committed to it.