Day 8 — Standard by parts (process to make soap)
Frosthaven wakes with a thin white sky and a cold that slides under shirts. Smoke lies low. Ropes twist in the rope‑walk with the slow rhythm of men who have done the same work since they were boys. In South Mills Lane, the hidden room is no longer just a room. It is a pattern. The brick ring holds heat. The clay lid breathes in a small way. The fan hums when a hand turns the crank slow and even. Three barrels sit like patient beasts: A for leaching, B for settling, C for in use. The chalk marks above them show arrows in a loop. A chalk box near the rule board holds grease dates for the fan.
Ryan stands in the doorway and watches steam lift in a thin line from the flue. He is not in a hurry. He checks the boards. He checks the shelf lip that holds the ledger. He checks the hooks. He checks the floor. The lip below the barrels is smooth now where Jory rubbed it with a wetted stone. No sharp edges wait to cut a sack.
Sariel is already inside. She turns to him with the ledger in her hands. Her hair is tied back tight. Her pencil sits across the open page. "Today we fix the recipe by parts," she says. "We set a steady trace time."
"Yes," Ryan says. His voice is quiet. He points to a small bundle on the shelf. He has cut three ladles to the same size. He has marked each handle with one notch. One ladle is the "part." If they talk in parts, even boys who cannot read can follow. If the ladle is the same size, a part is a part.
Peter comes in with two buckets of hot water. He is early again. He sets them down and wipes his hands on his apron. "I filled the eye‑wash pail," he says. "I changed it already. Vinegar jug is full. I checked twice." He sounds proud, but not loud. He points to the rule board. He has refreshed one faded line with new chalk.
Murdock steps through the door and pushes it open with his shoulder. He smells of iron and coal and clean work. He looks at the flue, then at the fan. He turns the crank slow with his big hand and listens. The fan hum stays soft. He nods once. "We grease at midday," he says, as if he is telling the wall, but it is for the ledger too.
Jory follows later with a string line and his trowel. He always brings them. He stands near Barrel A and turns his head to look at the lip and the drain pan. He does not see a crack. He taps the brick ring with the back of his trowel. The ring answers with a full sound, not a hollow. He nods to himself.
"Outline," Sariel says.
Ryan puts the three ladles on the shelf where all can see. He keeps his words short and clear. He speaks slow so the words carry to the corners of the room. "We are going to use parts," he says. "No scales. No cups that change from day to day. One ladle is one part. No more, no less."
He picks up the first ladle. "Fat," he says. He picks up the second. "Lye," he says. He picks up the third. "Water," he says. He sets them down in a row.
"For soft soap," he says, "we will start with ten parts warm clean fat to three parts of strong KOH liquor. We will hold back two parts of hot water to thin if the mix gets ahead of us. We will add a small superfat at the end for hand jars. One ladle. Fixed."
Peter repeats in a calm voice, "Ten parts fat. Three parts lye. Two parts hot water held back. One ladle superfat for hand." He says it in the same simple tone Ryan used. He likes that simple patterns can live in his head.
"Trace time," Ryan says. "We aim for a steady time. We will measure with the sun line on the wall and a small sand glass. We will not count heartbeats. We will count something we can see." He points to the nail in the wall where the sun had marked a line in the days before. Under that nail, he has hung a small sand glass the potter's woman's son brought in trade for a jar. It is not perfect. But it leaks the same sand in the same way each day.
"We stir until trace holds. We turn the glass. We see how many times we turn it to reach trace," Ryan says. "We aim for three turns today. If we hit three turns, and the texture looks right, we write it. Then we try to do the same again. Same parts. Same turns."
Sariel nods. "I will draw boxes," she says. She draws a line on the ledger page that will hold a small picture of the sand glass with numbers next to it. She does not write many words. She draws what boys can read.
They move to the barrels. Peter takes the placards and moves them with his steady hands. "A to B. B to C. C to A," he says.
They recirculate the hot water through Barrel A. They pour the runnings back over twice. The smell is like wet hearth. Ryan sets the egg. It floats with a dome the size of a coin. He measures with his finger. "Good," he says.
They pour the leach to Barrel B to settle. They skim a little scum from the top of Barrel C and decant clear lye for the kettle. They do not hurry. They keep their wrists slow.
At the pre‑render station, Peter lifts the board from yesterday's press and picks up a pale cake of fat. It is smooth and clean. He smiles to himself. He sets it in a clean pot and adds water for the bath. He sets a small charcoal fire under the water bath ring so heat comes gentle and even. He does not let the fat touch the metal heat. He only lets it float in water to warm.
Ryan slakes lime in the trough. The hiss arrives like a small storm. He stirs slow. He pours the leach into the milk of lime and watches the cloud change as the chalk falls. He lets it settle. He decants the clearer KOH through linen into a jar and sets an egg again. The dome is a hair higher than a coin. He writes "cut" with a small finger sign to himself. He adds a ladle of hot water. He checks again. Now the dome sits coin‑size.
"Today's parts," he says. "Ten fat. Three lye. We hold two water. One ladle superfat at the end for hand jars."
Murdock helps lift the kettle to a slightly more center place over the baffle. He turns the crank to draw the air. The lid is in place. The vent is open the width of a thumb. The room is calm.
They begin the kettle. Peter calls the steps like before. "Clean fat in. Low heat. Fan on," he says. Ryan nods and lets him say it. Saying simple steps out loud turns fear into habit.
Ryan picks up the sand glass. "Turn," he says. He turns it as the first ladle of lye goes in. He stirs in slow circles and a figure eight. He keeps the paddle low. He does not flick. He does not splash. The surface shines. The line holds for less than a second. Not trace yet. He waits. He adds the second ladle of lye. He stirs. The boat of his arm knows the water it moves through. The sand glass runs down. He turns it again. One turn.
"Part count?" Sariel asks.
"Fat ten," Peter reports. "Lye two of three added."
Ryan adds the last of the three lye ladles. He stirs. He does not look nervous. He says a calm line: "Slow with lye. Wait. Watch." He looks at the surface. The ribbon mark holds for longer now. He can see it. He keeps stirring for a count of his breath and then turns the sand glass again. Two turns.
He looks at the heat line around the kettle. It is even. No one is talking over the kettle except to say what matters. Jory listens for a strange tick in the brick and hears nothing wrong. Murdock looks at the flue that pulls the breath of the room into the sky and sees no spill.
"Add one ladle of hot water," Ryan says. "We do not want it to seize." Peter pours one ladle of hot water, slow. The surface smooths and holds the ribbon for a short pause. The paddle moves well. Ryan stirs. He turns the sand glass again. Three turns.
He holds the paddle over the surface and lets a ribbon fall. It holds a clean line for a moment. Trace.
"Trace," he says. "Three turns. Write it."
Sariel draws three small sand glass icons next to today's batch entry. She writes "Trace steady on third turn" in small letters. She writes "Parts: 10 fat, 3 lye, 1 water held back (used), superfat 1 ladle (HAND jars)."
Ryan keeps stirring for a little time after trace. He does not stop the moment the sign appears. He wants trace to hold. He lowers the heat a little. He asks Peter to turn the fan one small notch slower. Even air, even heat. He motions to Jory to tap the ring again. Jory taps. Full sound. Good.
Ryan speaks small teachings as he stirs. "If oil floats on top," he says, "we add a little lye. If it bites too much after rest on skin, we add a little fat next time. We do not chase today inside the kettle. We learn and change the next day."
Peter nods. He repeats. "Do not chase today. Learn and change next time."
They add one ladle of warm fat at the end. "Superfat for HAND jars," Ryan says. He stirs it in slow. He lets the kettle sit for a breath. He scoops a small, warm rope of paste with the back of the ladle and watches it fall. Thick, smooth, a little shine, not separated. Good.
They ladle the paste into jars while it is still warm. The room smells like warm fat and clay and a small bite of ash. Sariel puts collars on the jars and cuts the edges. She makes two diagonal cuts on the HAND jar collars. She makes one diagonal cut on the BENCH jar collars. She presses a small pinwheel knurl into the inner fold of the collar, today's pattern. She writes the day's pattern on a slate near the door so a buyer can check if needed. The porter stands near and watches with his steady eyes. When she is done, he signs the margin. "I have seen it," he says.
Peter does a small thing without being asked. He takes the QC sheet for the nib line and pins it to the wall near the door. It is a simple instruction for the workers on the nib team: "Degrease before polish." It has seven steps drawn with simple pictures and short words.
Wash hands.
Take soft soap (BENCH jar).
Rub the nib piece gently.
Rinse with clean water.
Dry on clean cloth.
Polish as usual.
Test ink on sample card.
He writes a note in his own small hand at the bottom: "If ink flow is uneven, check step 2 again." He copies a small simple drawing of a pen writing a clean line on paper.
Ryan watches him and gives a small nod. "Good," he says. "Now we will prove it. We will measure ink lines before and after this new step. Sariel will count. Not a guess. A number."
Sariel turns a page and draws ten short horizontal lines. She writes "Before" above five and "After" above the other five. She writes a note. "We will ask three workers to test. We will count skips."
They are almost done for the morning when a man from the rope‑walk stops at the door. He is older. His hair is grey. His wrists are dark with old tar stains. He holds one of their jars in his hand. He says, "It helped. The tar comes off quicker. But my wrist still stings a little near the soft part."
Ryan says, "Thank you." He holds out a fresh HAND jar and says, "Try this. We made it kinder. One ladle extra fat." He points at the cuts on the collar. "Two cuts means HAND. If it still stings, come back and tell Sariel. Do not be shy."
The man looks at Sariel and then at the rule board. He nods. He says, "I like your words on the board. They are simple. The young ones remember simple."
He leaves. Peter watches him go and stands a little taller.
That afternoon, after the kettle is put to rest and the tools are hung, Ryan walks to the nib bench. He takes five old sample cards that show ink tests from last week. He writes "Before" on them. He adds five new sample cards. He writes "After." He asks three workers to do the tests: wash with soft soap, rinse, dry, polish, test. Sariel watches and counts. She counts skips and hard starts. She keeps the numbers clean.
By evening, they have a small number. "Before, twelve skips in five lines," she says. "After, two skips in five lines." She does not smile wide. She looks at Ryan with a small light in her eyes. "This is good."
Ryan says, "We write it in the book. 'Degrease before polish' is now the rule. No exceptions."
Murdock hears the last words and taps the door with his knuckles. "Rules make men," he says. "Make more of them."
They do the fan grease and sign the box. They do a quick drill. Peter calls, "Fan jam," and they swap the spare fan again in a slow, safe way. The kettle is not running, but practice still matters. They put the spare back and tighten all bolts. They breathe easy.
Before he leaves, Ryan looks at the slate with the day's knurl pattern. He erases yesterday's pattern. He draws today's shape. He checks the porter's signature on the margin of the ledger. He says the line he has said each night even when no one can hear:
Audit note: Choice Mandate — no call. Domain — not open. Today we used hands, rules, and time.
Day 9 — Publish and share (process to make soap)
The next day starts with a colder air. Frost clings to the top rails of the rope‑walk and to the lip of a gutter stone. The sun is thin but honest. Men move with breath smoke in front of their mouths. In the hidden room, the routine is smooth. They move the placards. They leach. They settle. They decant. They stir. They aim for three sand glass turns. They mark trace. They add one ladle of superfat for HAND jars. They label with cuts and knurl. They sign.
But this day has more than work inside the room. Today they go out to share and to listen.
Sariel lays a stack of sheets on the table by the door. They are the wash instructions for HAND jars. She keeps the words short and prints them in large, clean letters. She adds small drawings with a line pen so even men who cannot read can still follow. She has written the same in the rope‑walk's work words and the dyers' words so it feels like theirs.
How to wash hands with soft soap (HAND):
Wet hands with warm water.
Take a small scoop of soap.
Rub hands well. Do not get in eyes.
Rinse with clean water.
Dry with a clean cloth.
If skin stings, rinse again with water. Rub a drop of vinegar on the skin. Then water again.
Do not use on children.
She makes the same sheet for BENCH jars:
How to clean tools and benches (BENCH):
Wet the tool or bench with warm water.
Take a small scoop of soap.
Rub and brush the grease or tar.
Rinse with clean water.
Dry with a clean cloth.
Do not use BENCH soap on soft skin.
She adds a small note on the bottom of both sheets:
If you have trouble, talk to Sariel at Technologia, South Mills Lane. We will listen.
She tucks the sheets into a simple wooden board with a string so they can hang the board near water barrels at the rope‑walk and dyers' house.
Ryan picks up a small basket of jars. Four HAND jars. Four BENCH jars. He does not take many. He wants to start small and learn. Peter lifts the basket too. He carries two small boards with the instructions. The porter comes, as asked, to witness the giving of the jars and the words they say. The porter's presence turns stories into facts.
They walk first to the rope‑walk. The foreman is there, as always, as the first man in and last man out. He sees them and waves them over with a short hand. Sariel hangs the instruction board by the water tub near the rope‑walk's door. Peter holds the board while she ties the string. The foreman reads the large words with his lips moving a little. He nods. "Good," he says. "Simple."
Ryan gives him two HAND jars and two BENCH jars. He shows the cuts on the collars. He shows the knurl hidden in the fold and points to the slate mark on the bottom of the board that shows today's knurl pattern. "If someone tries to copy this," Ryan says, "tell me. We will fix it. If it works for you, tell me. We will make more."
The foreman turns to a younger man with red wrists. "You try the hand one," he says. "Do not rub too hard."
The young man looks at Ryan and then at the foreman and then at Sariel. He nods. He wets his hands. He takes a small scoop. He rubs with slow circles, not hard. He rinses with clean water from the tub. He pats his wrists dry with a cloth.
"How is it?" Ryan asks. He does not say this like a merchant. He says it like a man who needs to know a tool works.
"It stings less," the young man says. "A little. But less." He lifts his hands and looks at the skin. "Here," he says, pointing to a soft place near his pulse, "it still feels like bites. But not as bad."
"Thank you," Ryan says. He looks at Sariel. "Write it," he says. She writes "rope‑walk young worker: stings less; soft area still bites a little."
Ryan turns to the foreman. "Use the BENCH jars on tools, not on skin. BENCH jars have one cut on the collar. HAND has two. The hand jars today have one ladle extra fat. We will try two ladles tomorrow if we must. We will not make it too greasy. We will find the right point."
The foreman nods. He looks at the porter. The porter writes the hour and a short line in his own book. He says, "Hour‑mark noted," like always. It feels like a seal.
They move next to the dyers. The dyer woman they have seen twice before meets them at the lean‑to where they keep their ash. She has a strong face and quiet eyes that see small things. She watches Sariel hang the instruction board near their barrel of clean water. She steps close and reads. She touches the drawing of a hand and the picture of a drop on a wrist that means "vinegar" and then "water again." She nods.
"We do not like harsh soap," she says. "We like clean. But not harsh."
Ryan says, "We feel the same."
He gives her two HAND jars and two BENCH jars. He shows the collar cuts. He shows the knurl in the fold. She presses with her finger the hidden knurl and then looks at Sariel's slate where the day's pattern is drawn. She nods. "This is smart," she says. "The fold hides the sign."
She calls two girls over to watch. They work with dye every day and their skin shows color deep at the edge of their wrists. They listen close while Sariel shows the sheet. Sariel keeps her words simple and her tone kind. She does not teach like a teacher who wants to feel high. She teaches like a friend who wants you to be safe.
They try the HAND jar with a little water and soft strokes. One girl says, "I like it." The other says, "It still stings." Sariel writes both. She thanks them. She asks for a promise. "Tell me tomorrow if it stings again," she says, "and where." They promise.
On the way back to the hidden room, Ryan stops at the nib bench again. He speaks with the two workers who tested the QC step yesterday. "How did it feel?" he asks.
A woman with steady hands says, "The new step slows me down at first. But the polish is smoother. The ink line is better. I do not have to fix as much after." She points to the "After" cards. They look clean. She says, "I like it."
A younger worker says, "I forgot the step once and I saw the difference." He points to a card with small skips. "It is clear," he says. "I will not forget again."
Sariel writes the small number of skips on the ledger. "Before: twelve. After: two," she says. She writes the names of the workers next to the lines so later she can ask again and see if the number holds.
In the afternoon, Ryan sets a small tester corner near the door in the hidden room. He nails two short boards to the wall. On one board, he writes, "Feedback slips." On the other, he writes, "Take this if you brought us news." He places small wooden chips in a bowl. He writes, "One chip for each true complaint we fix." It is a simple token, but he knows a small sign of thanks can make a man come back to tell the truth again.
Peter asks Ryan in a low voice, "Can we make a balm for the wrists? A simple one?" He looks shy when he asks this because it is not soap; it is extra. But he thinks of the red wrists and wants to help.
Ryan thinks for a small breath. "We can," he says. "Not something strong. A little tallow with a hint of beeswax if we can get it from the candlemaker, and a drop of vinegar water to soften the feel. We will test it on us first. We will never put it on open wounds." He looks at Sariel. "We will write a line: 'Not for cuts or eyes.' We will do it only if we can keep it clean."
Sariel nods. "We can keep it clean," she says. "We will make only a small pan at a time. We will put it in very small pots. We will wash hands before touching it. We will tell people to use a clean finger."
Murdock overhears and says, "Candlemaker will ask for coin. I will go talk." He likes to help when it is about small good things. He knows the candlemaker and can get a small roll of beeswax for a fair price.
By late afternoon, after the kettle has been put to bed and the tools have been washed and hung, they get their first real feedback. The rope‑walk foreman walks in with the older man and the young man. The older man says, "It is better. The tar moves faster. My hands feel less angry." The young man says, "It still stings at the soft part." He points at the same spot near his pulse.
Ryan thanks them. He gives the young man a small wooden chip. "For telling the truth," he says. The young man laughs a little and looks at the chip like it is odd and nice at the same time.
Then a dyer girl comes to the door with her friend. She says, "I like the smell," and her friend says, "I like that it does not leave my hands too dry." Another dyer woman says, "It still stings if I rub hard," and Sariel writes: "Note — teach gentle motion."
They write all of it. They do not argue. They do not defend. They say thank you and mean it.
That evening, Ryan opens the ledger to the new page that Sariel has labeled "Day 9 — Publish and Share." He writes the simplest of lines:
We shared small. We listened. We will change with care.
He writes his audit line. Audit note: Choice Mandate — no call. Domain — not open. Today we used hands, rules, and time.
Day 10 — Nail the time, fix the feel
On Day 10 the sky is clearer. The air is still cold. The light is a little stronger. The rope‑walk hums. The dyers lift buckets of color like evening, blue and red and purple. The hidden room is warm before first bell. Peter started the kettle earlier with just warm water to take the edge off the cold in the clay. He has learned that stone and clay that are not too cold make the day go smoother. He has written a small line at the top of the page: "Warm the room first."
Ryan draws the outline in the air again in front of the team. He does it not because they forgot, but because repeating turns fear into hands. "Two jobs today," he says. "First, we lock the recipe by parts and the trace time. Second, we tune the feel for hands, without losing clean."
He lifts the ladle. "Parts stay ten fat, three lye," he says. "We hold two water and add one if needed. We will not add more unless the paddle says we must. Superfat is one ladle for HAND jars. If the soft skin still bites, we try one and a half ladles on one jar only. We do not change the whole kettle until we know."
He points to the sand glass. "Three turns to trace," he says. "We will check if this holds in the colder morning and in the warmer afternoon. If in the cold it takes four turns, we do not panic. We write it. We adjust heat a little and stir steady. We do not chase today."
He walks to the barrels. Sariel moves the placards. "A to B. B to C. C to A," she says. She smiles a small smile as she says it. It feels like a small song now. Peter recirculates hot water through Barrel A. He tests with the egg. It floats with a dome equal to the coin circle on the log. Good. Barrel B haze has settled fine. Barrel C provides clear lye. They make the KOH liquor again with lime and decant through linen.
Ryan takes a moment before the kettle and says a few words to the whole team. "We are not quick today," he says. "We are steady. We want three turns. We want the paddle to feel the same pull. We want trace to look the same. We want the same as yesterday."
They set Kettle 6. Clean fat goes in. The water bath on the pre‑render station keeps the new fat melting smooth. The fan pulls air. The lid breathes. The baffle keeps flame under the center.
Ryan turns the sand glass. "Turn one," he says. He adds the first ladle of lye. He stirs slow. He watches the gloss. He watches the ribbon mark. He turns the sand glass again. "Turn two," he says. He adds the second ladle of lye. He stirs. The ribbon holds a moment longer. He turns the sand glass again. "Turn three," he says. He adds the third ladle of lye. The paddle meets more pull. He watches the ribbon hold even longer. Trace. He says it when he sees it. "Trace," he says. "Three turns."
He shows Peter the surface at trace. He says, "See the line hold? Feel the weight at your hand? Remember that. That is the memory you will use when the glass breaks or the sun is behind a cloud."
Peter nods. "I feel it," he says. He smiles, but he does not take his eyes off the surface. He turns the fan a touch when Ryan asks. He lowers the fire a little when Ryan points. He keeps the paddle moving in slow eights that leave no splash.
Sariel draws three small sand glasses next to the Kettle 6 entry. She writes "Trace at 3 turns in cold morning. Parts 10:3:1 used. Superfat 1 ladle (HAND)."
Ryan ladles the soap into jars at the end. He speaks to Sariel. "We will make one HAND jar with one and a half ladles superfat," he says. "Only one. We will mark it with three diagonal cuts and write 'TEST' on the collar." He does not want to make the whole kettle into a test. He wants a small sample.
"Agree," Sariel says. She marks the collar with three cuts and writes TEST in clear letters.
They hang the tools. They wipe the shelf. They wash the floor near the lip with a little clean water. They check the eye‑wash. They check the vinegar. They drink a little water and eat a small bit of bread. They keep the day simple.
Late morning, the rope‑walk foreman arrives with the young man and two other men. He has yesterday's HAND jar in his hand. "Better," he says. "We want to try your test jar."
Sariel gives him the test HAND jar and points to the three cuts. "This one is softer," she says. "Use a little less. Move gentle."
The young man, the one with the soft wrist bite, takes the jar. He lifts the lid and smells. His nose crinkles, then he nods. He tries it under Sarah's eye. He uses a little. He rubs softly. He rinses and pats dry. He waits. He smiles. "It is okay," he says. "It feels okay now."
Sariel writes this in the book. "Young rope‑walk: test jar ok. Felt okay on soft skin." She draws three small cuts next to the line to mark which jar it was.
The dyer woman also arrives. She says, "The BENCH jar cleans the dye bowls faster. We like that." She says, "Two girls said skin is less angry today." She says, "One girl still rubs too hard." She smiles a little and adds, "We like the pictures. The pictures help boys who do not read."
Sariel writes: "Dyer feedback: bench clean faster; hand less sting; teach gentle." She pulls two small clean cloths from a basket and gives them to the woman. "Dry hands with clean cloth," she says. "Not old rags. Old rags make skin angry too."
They thank her. She thanks them. The porter watches, witnesses, and signs the margin.
At noon, the candlemaker brings a small roll of beeswax. He says Murdock sent him. He says Murdock already paid part with a small fix to a broken mold. He sets the roll on the table. He looks at the jars on the shelf. He looks at the rule board. He reads the big words. He says, "You are serious people," in a soft tone. He seems surprised and pleased at the same time. He leaves with a small nod.
In the afternoon, they set Kettle 7 to test if the three turns hold when the room is warmer. They recirculate. They causticise. They stir. The sand glass turns. The kettle feels the same. "Trace at three turns again," Ryan says. "Good." He keeps his face calm. He keeps his heart calm. He knows that days like this do not last forever. But he knows to mark them in the book when they come.
They make one more test jar, a HAND jar with one and a quarter ladles superfat. They mark it with two cuts and a little dot on the collar. They write "TEST 1/4" on it. They will compare to the three‑cut test jar.
They run a second small round of nib QC tests. "Before" and "After." Three different workers this time. Sariel counts. "Before: nine skips. After: one skip," she says. Ryan writes, "We will never skip the degrease step now. It is a rule." He writes it on the rule board with a new line: "Nib QC: wash with BENCH soap before final polish. Always." He writes "Always" in larger letters than the rest.
In the late afternoon, after Jar TEST has gone to the rope‑walk and Jar TEST 1/4 has gone to the dyers, Ryan gathers the team in the room. He points to the sand glass on the wall. He points to the parts ladle on the shelf. He points to the barrel placards. He points to the rule board. He points to the ledger. He points to the fan.
He says, "This is our factory. It is small. But it is a factory. It is a pattern made of hands and simple tools. It only works if we keep it the same. The same parts. The same turns. The same rules. The same labels. The same simple words."
Murdock taps the door again, his habit when he agrees. "Keep it neat," he says.
Jory lifts his trowel with a small grin. "Measure twice," he says.
Peter points to the eye‑wash pail. "Changed," he says. "And I put a clean cloth by it so no one wipes eyes with dirty sleeves."
Sariel closes the ledger with care. "I made a copy of the wash instructions," she says. "I will post one in the nib room next to the QC cards. I will send one to the Adventurer's Guild as well. Mira likes clear sheets." She smiles. "She told me last year, 'Most jobs pass through me. Bring back your dockets sealed proper. I dislike messy ink and broken wax.' She will like seeing clean hands on the page."
Ryan nods. He wants the city to see small order and feel safer.
Near evening, the rope‑walk young man returns. He holds up his hand. "The test jar feels good," he says. "No bite." The older foreman says, "I see less red on wrists." He says, "We want to trade for two more HAND jars tomorrow." Sariel writes the request and the hour.
The dyer woman also returns with the girl who still rubbed too hard. The girl has a shy face and strong fingers. She looks at the floor. The woman says, "She rubs like she rubs dye out of cloth." She smiles and adds, "She is strong. But she must be gentle with her skin." Sariel takes the girl's hands in hers and shows her slow circles. She says, "Gentle," in a soft voice. The girl nods. She tries the motion in the air. She smiles a little. She says, "Gentle," back.
After they leave, Ryan sits on the low stool near the kettle. He feels tired in a good way. He looks at the nail on the wall where the sun line falls. He watches the light fade. He thinks of the Space House for a blink. He shakes his head in a small way. He does not go there. He writes the audit line on the bottom of the page.
Audit note: Choice Mandate — no call. Domain — not open. Today we used hands, rules, and time.
He writes a summary for the three days of this chapter in simple words that even a boy could read later:
We fixed the recipe by parts: ten fat, three lye, one water held and used, one ladle superfat for HAND.
We set trace time to three turns of the sand glass. It held in cold morning and warmer afternoon.
We made clear wash instructions with pictures. We posted them at rope‑walk and dyers. We posted in nib room.
We added the new QC step: degrease before polish. Ink skips fell from twelve to two and nine to one in two tests.
We started small sharing: two HAND and two BENCH jars to rope‑walk; two HAND and two BENCH jars to dyers. We listened.
We made test HAND jars with more superfat. The rope‑walk young man said "okay." We will test more and decide a steady mark.
We kept safety: eye‑wash changed, vinegar full, drills done, fan greased, tools hung, spills stopped at lip.
We kept trust: porter watched, collars marked, inner fold knurl set and slate pattern drawn.
He closes the book. He looks around the room. He sees that the small engine they built not only turns, but does so with less noise and less fear. He feels a lightness in his chest that is not pride and not relief. It is something like trust. He trusts his people. He trusts the pattern. He trusts that simple honest work can hold against a hard world for at least another day.
He says, "Good work," in the same simple voice he has used every night.
Murdock answers, "We'll keep it neat."
Jory answers, "Measure twice."
Peter answers, "I will be here at first bell. I will warm the room."
Sariel answers, "The wheel turns the same. The log is ready."
Ryan pushes the latch and closes the door. He steps into the lane. The sky is the color of steel. The steam from the flue is a thin line. The smell is clean. He walks with his people, and their steps sound like a small ordered drum on the cobbles.