Kett’s reservoir fitting had been closed with expensive bolts.
The water barrels beside it had been patched with cheap cloth.
Joss knelt on his sound side and examined the blank plate.
It carried Orren’s office seal, but the receiving socket underneath was older than the seal by decades.
Tan checked its groove and found no crack.
“It can take a shared outlet,” she said.
Kett watched her hands.
“We know.
That’s why we didn’t sell it.”
Joss stood slowly.
“I need the source community to agree.
I’m not opening a head today and finding out tomorrow who went thirsty for it.”
“They get water now.
We don’t.”
“They also maintain the bore.
If it breaks, everybody gets none.”
Kett looked toward the empty barrels.
The answer didn’t make them fuller.
They returned to the barricade table.
Kett offered passage, the sound reservoir platform for a night’s stop, and two workers to help repair a damaged wheel if needed.
In return, he wanted a permanent share of the wellhead’s flow.
“One third,” he said.
Joss put Nera’s source card between them.
“We don’t know the sustainable draw yet.
A third of a failing bore could leave all three places with an argument and dry pipes.”
“Then test it.”
“I will.”
“Write what you promise after that.”
Joss wrote the order of the outlets: Rill Camp before Reed Dock, with a measured share agreed at Wellmouth and protected by the same maintenance schedule.
Kett could send a representative to hear the source bargain.
Kett read the contract without touching the pencil.
“You’ve left the amount empty.”
“Because nobody’s measured it.
You’ve made that sound like dishonesty when making up a number would be worse.”
Kett’s mouth tightened.
He went to the reservoir edge and looked at the children queuing with empty cups.
While he considered the paper, the younger man Joss had noticed reached the cart.
He pulled the oil crate’s upper strap.
Latch closed its lid over the loose end.
The man swore and shoved the creature aside.
Tan caught the crate before it tipped off the ordinary bed.
She didn’t swing her hammer.
She put it through the wheel spokes and locked the cart where it stood.
Two of the man’s friends moved toward her.
Joss took the cart’s loose towing loop and passed it around the nearest platform post.
“Hands off,” he said.
The first man kept pulling.
His name came from Kett, sharp and angry: “Verrin.”
Verrin ignored him.
“They’ve got water money.
Oil sells.
We need food tonight.”
He unhooked the cart brake.
The post loop took up the movement.
The cart turned a quarter circle, bringing its reinforced corner against Verrin’s thigh.
Joss guided the handle while Tan kept the oil upright.
Verrin stumbled.
One of his friends reached for a spear at the barricade.
Kett got there first.
“Put it down.”
The man hesitated.
Kett didn’t raise his own weapon; he stood where the spear couldn’t be drawn without shoving him.
“My camp doesn’t get its water by selling the parts that carry it.”
Verrin rubbed his leg.
“Your camp’s hungry.”
“Mine too,” a woman at the reservoir said.
“And I didn’t agree to this.”
Others came closer, angry at different people for different reasons.
Joss stayed beside the cart.
Tan checked the oil crate, then showed Kett its intact seals.
“No loss,” she said.
“Yet.
We’re not staying if our supplies need watching all night.”
Kett took Verrin’s belt knife and gave it to another camp worker.
He assigned the young man to carry water from the river boiling station instead of approaching the cart again.
“You want food tonight, help cook it,” he said.
Verrin left with a bucket, furious but walking.
His two friends followed him rather than trying another rush in front of their own neighbors.
Joss checked his ribs, then rested a hand on the post.
He needed to sit for a few minutes before signing anything.
Kett brought a chair.
They finished the bargain there.
One salt brick from the expense stores would pay immediate passage and compensate the reservoir work they’d use.
It left three for the source seals.
Kett sent a woman named Orla with them the next morning to witness the draw test and defend Rill Camp’s share.
“And you’ll stop here on return,” he said.
“If the head comes, this outlet opens before we pass.”
Kett signed.
Tan let the cart roll only after the camp cleared its gate.
They stayed on the platform that night, paying for a cooked grain meal from their provisions rather than accepting food the camp couldn’t spare.
Kett posted a watch near the cart and a separate one near Verrin’s sleeping place.
Orla came to inspect the route card after supper.
She had spent years carrying water in two mismatched tins.
When Joss showed her the receiver path, she asked where a broken source fitting would leave them.
“Dry,” he said.
“Unless we protect it.”
She pointed at the line through the camp.
“Then passage isn’t the only thing we provide.
Put us on the maintenance schedule.”
Joss added the clause.
The price had grown from a salt brick into a community he would need to keep coming back to.
Orla copied the agreement herself.
Her handwriting filled the page unevenly, using half the margin before she reached the last line.
Joss offered another sheet.
She declined and turned the paper sideways to finish.
“You keep yours,” she said.
“I can read mine.”
Kett came back with the camp’s old outlet handle.
Its shaft was straight; its packing had dried out.
Tan inspected it and put it with her tools so she could compare it to Wellmouth’s fittings.
“That returns even if you can’t bring water,” Kett said.
Joss wrote the borrowed handle beneath the passage payment.
Near the stove, Verrin stood over a boiling pot, still wearing the expression of someone punished for being the first to say what others thought.
Joss helped lift a bucket with his good hand and took the light end to the wash bench.
Verrin watched him.
“Two extra mouths tonight.”
“We brought our food.”
“You brought three days.”
“Then I should finish the job before that becomes your problem.”
Verrin looked away and shoved another empty bucket toward him.
Before sleep, Kett moved the camp watch from the near road to the reservoir socket.
The choice left less warning of visitors but kept the fitting from being removed in darkness.
Kett checked the bolts himself before lying down.