The abandoned lock had been built to lift a loaded barge over a shelf of rock. Its wooden cradle hung between two stone towers, half lowered into the channel. They could not sail beneath it. They could not turn back without meeting the men behind them.
“I know these,” Sorell said. “I don't know this one.”
Selka recognized the bronze branch running into the tower. Active water motion held the heavy cradle aloft; a hand chain worked the release. The same pressure held the guard arms over Harrowmere's anchor; here it held a cradle up, with no guards to keep people away.
She climbed onto the tower ledge and hauled the chain. Nothing moved. Rust fell onto her sleeves.
Darr came after her. Together they pulled until the cradle shuddered, rising a few inches. Sorell guided the boat beneath its lifted edge.
Ruun reached into the water to help.
Its lower iron caught on a broken timber. The boat moved on, leaving it bent over the stern. Selka saw the strain before she understood the danger.
“Stop!”
Sorell dropped the sail. The cradle slipped.
Ruun went overboard, caught by the iron and the descending beam. Its hand struck the boat, failing to find a hold. Water burst from the wound into the channel.
Selka let go of the chain.
Darr caught it. “It falls if you leave.”
She seized it again, frantic. Below them Iven tried to lever the caught iron free with a pole. The pole broke. The god's face was half under water, its fingers scraping the stone footing.
Anet stood.
“Sit down,” Selka shouted.
Her daughter stepped onto the sloping cradle beam. She had taken the thin rigging line from the boat. Sorell reached for her and missed.
“Don't pull yet,” Anet called to Iven. “Let me loop it.”
The beam shifted. Selka's shoulder burned as the chain dragged. Her daughter crouched beside the god, put an arm around the iron below its ribs, and threaded the line under the trapped bar. Twice it slipped through her fingers.
Ruun raised its head. “Leave it.”
“I would love to,” Anet said. “Lift your foot.”
It tried. The iron caught harder.
Anet looked up at Selka. “Mother. Let it down a little.”
“You'll go under.”
“The load has to turn.”
Selka looked at Sorell. The forewoman nodded once, white-faced. She understood the job, and that made trusting her worse.
Selka eased the chain. The cradle dropped an inch. Anet disappeared to her shoulders. Iven pulled the line. The lower bar turned, freed itself from the timber, and Ruun came up beside the boat.
Anet tried to climb. Her hand slid from the wet beam.
The god caught her under one arm. With its other hand it pushed against the footing, and together they struck the boat hard enough to throw Iven backward. Sorell grabbed Anet's coat and hauled. Kerr caught Ruun's wrist. The others pulled both aboard.
Selka stayed at the chain until the boat had cleared. Then she came down the ledge so quickly she skinned both palms.
Anet was leaning over the bellows mouthpiece. Iven worked the handles; Sorell held her. Anet looked up at Selka with eyes full of tears she could not spare breath to explain.
Selka knelt and put a hand on her knee.
Ruun lay beside them. Its wound had widened. It looked at Anet, then at Selka.
“She knows,” it said.
“Yes.”
“She asked nothing.”
Anet lifted her hand off the bench. “I need you to move your foot,” she managed, “so I can sit.”
Ruun moved it. The girl closed her eyes against Sorell's shoulder. Selka stayed with her hand on the knee while the lock cradle lowered behind them, sealing the passage to their pursuers.