Who Could Leave

By evening, the camp had counted everyone.

Two workers were badly injured. Several others needed care. Nessa's wrist was wrapped and supported. The smaller boy, Toll, had lost a shoe and refused to stop asking for it until Pella found one that nearly fitted him.

No one had died beneath the platform.

Ada held that fact carefully. It did not make the injuries small. It did not make the day a success anyone should have needed.

Rusk came to the infirmary after the final search. His face looked carved from the same pale stone as the quarry.

“The correction bought the time,” he told Ada.

“It moved the cost.”

“Yes. To a place I could keep empty.”

She nodded.

He put a signed account of the collapse on the bench beside her. It named the unsafe supports, the disputed trial and the emergency transfer. It did not call the event unavoidable.

“Venn won't like this,” she said.

“Venn can write his own account.”

“He will.”

“Then keep this one.”

Cal entered behind him with a packet of release papers. His expression was controlled in the way Ada had learned meant anger rather than calm.

“The charges have been corrected for eleven workers who asked to leave,” he said. “Rusk has signed the releases under emergency authority. The travel route to Rook's Rest is confirmed.”

“Will the district accept them?”

Rusk looked at the papers.

“They're valid under the rules I was given. What someone chooses to call them later is another matter.”

Perrin stood beside the bed, trying to look as though he had not been listening to every word.

“You can come,” Ada told him.

He glanced at Nessa and Toll.

“They're included,” Cal said.

Perrin let out a breath Ada hadn't realised he was holding.

Venn appeared at the infirmary door before the papers could be distributed.

“A courier has arrived.”

He held a new order. This one carried both the Hall's mark and the Chancellor's seal.

Cal read it without taking the page.

His travel authorisation had been suspended. He was to return to Orison immediately under escort. Ada Serrin's field assessment was terminated. The ink case and all notes relating to unauthorised corrections were to be surrendered.

Pella read over his shoulder.

“They write quickly when they know your name.”

Venn looked at Rusk. “You have guards.”

“I have injured workers, unstable structures and a camp road that needs keeping clear.”

“The order is explicit.”

“So is my responsibility for this site.”

The two men looked at each other. Ada could feel the difference between a rule and the person who would have to choose to enforce it.

Rusk turned to Cal.

“The released workers need an escort to Rook's Rest. You'll travel with them. At the inn, the district courier can find you and arrange the next stage.”

Venn opened his mouth.

Rusk held up the collapse account.

“You may explain why you prefer to keep children on an unsafe site after their releases are signed.”

It was not rebellion declared beneath a banner. It was an exhausted man refusing one instruction while leaving enough official wording around the refusal to survive the next hour.

They left before dawn.

Noma had arranged two local carriers to meet the released workers at the road junction. Those who could walk did. The injured rode. Perrin carried Toll's small bundle because the boy would not let anyone take his hand.

Ada's shoulder ached. Her thumb remained numb at the tip. She kept the correction account, the release copies and the old underlayer in separate places, because losing one bag should not mean losing every version of what had happened.

At the junction, Cal looked back towards the quarry.

“They'll call Rusk's order irregular.”

“Will he be punished?” Ada asked.

“I don't know.”

She hated the answer. She trusted it more than reassurance.

Pella spoke to the carriers about the safest route to the White Net, where Ren might be able to help the workers continue home. The adults agreed to take the larger group by the lower path. Perrin, Nessa and Toll would travel with them rather than follow Ada towards Quarry House.

Perrin objected immediately.

“Ysra's there.”

“I know.”

“I can help.”

“You have helped. I need you somewhere I can come back to.”

He looked at her injured hand, then at the bags containing evidence.

“That isn't fair.”

“No,” Ada said. “It isn't.”

She hugged him. He held her carefully this time, avoiding the bruised shoulder.

“Bring her,” he whispered.

Ada could not promise what she didn't control.

“I'll try.”

Then the road divided again, and each group took the distance it could manage.