They got twelve people out of the cold north-ward rooms before dark, carrying those who could not manage the stairs to the baker's oven room above the flood steps. Darr found his mother still waiting beneath her coat peg. She let him wrap her in blankets, then asked why the pipes were cold. Selka heard him begin to answer as they went up the street.
The baker had come through her yard passage with bread and stayed to guide the next group. When the tray was empty she broke the last loaf into smaller pieces.
Sorell took the bellows to the service stair below Pel's window, where she could reach Anet once the girl came off the ledge. Iven brought blankets, a lamp, the third bell and his spare cutting tool. He set them on the landing's bench, with the bell beside the rope.
Anet worked with her pendant attached to the pipe. Selka watched through the room's open window as she loosened bolts and slid thin wedges into the seams. At the rear hold the girl had to work with her arm tucked under the brace, while Sorell watched the pipe for movement from the window. Slow craft, stopping when the strain changed, listening to the bronze.
Pel sat on the bed with his bag.
“Come now,” Selka told him.
“When she's done.”
“There's no reason to wait.”
“She doesn't know the middle bracket. I put it in.”
Anet called a question, and he answered it without looking up. She nodded through the window. There had been a reason, after all.
Darr came in from the gate. Three freed men would join his escort at the chamber stair. The boy with the spear had left his post, but Voss's guards had noticed the service door. They were moving the outer watch.
“We go at first light,” Darr said. “Before they finish.”
“Can we get Pel out tonight?”
“We can try.”
They tried when Anet returned from the ledge. Pel stood too fast, gripping his chest pipe. Kerr took his bag. Selka offered her arm. The keeper waved her away until his knees failed on the third step.
She caught him. His weight drove her against the wall.
“Leave the bag,” Darr told Kerr.
Pel reached for it. “The shutters—”
“Don't matter.”
“The rain comes in.”
The words broke into coughing. A shout came from below. The watch had found them on the stair.
Darr pushed past Selka, drew his sword, and forced the first guard back. More footsteps sounded behind him.
They had to take Pel up again. He helped as much as he could, which made carrying him harder. Anet kept her hand over Pel's tube, preventing it from wrenching loose. When they got him onto the bed, his shirt was soaked.
“I'm all right,” he said.
She knelt beside him. “You aren't.”
“You'll get me in the morning.”
No one agreed. Selka could hear the men below taking positions. The chance had narrowed while they used it.
Later she found Darr sitting on the stair above the new guards. Kerr stood beside him with two cups. They were sharing the last beer from Pel's kettle cupboard.
“You'll put him first tomorrow?” Selka asked.
Darr looked toward the keeper's door. “I'll try to make room.”
She sat on the step above him. For the first time since Reedgate there was nothing useful to say. Kerr gave her his cup. The beer tasted stale and good.
Before dawn Anet came in from the ledge, fingers black with old grease. She leaned against Selka without asking. Selka put an arm around her shoulders and did not mention the pipe or the breath or the coming day.
Across the room Ruun sat on the bare floor. It had no stone to put its hand on. Its palm rested against the boards beside Pel's bed.