Draffen was already at his table when Ezra arrived.
The Maester had a ledger open, a piece of chalk in his hand, and a row of small stones lined up along a margin as if he used them to keep his mind in place.
Ezra climbed onto the stool opposite him without being asked. He set a book on the table. The ink was uniform. The title line sat square.
WATER AND SICKNESS — DRAW‑POINT STUDY — BASELINE
Draffen did not smile at the pressed title line. He tapped the top page with a fingernail.
"Rowan's numbers?" he asked.
"Rowan gave me the base entries," Ezra said. "I reworked them so they can be compared cleanly."
Draffen's right eyebrow rose as he skimmed until his eyes slowed on the tables set in three columns.
Eighth Ward (monthly avg child burials, under 10) 42 : XLII
Twenty-Seventh (Dockside Tenements; monthly avg, u10) 55 : LV
Total (both wards; monthly avg, under 10) 97 : XCVII
Months per year 12 : XII
None / no entry 0 : -
He turned another page revealing the percent marks in the margin. Short ratio lines beneath them. A chart drawn with straight edges—bars against a numbered side, a trend that didn't need a speech.
Draffen looked up."You did all of this?" His voice stayed flat.
Ezra nodded. "By hand."
Draffen's gaze dropped back to the graph. "With what?"
Ezra reached into his satchel and set the instruments on the table: a straightedge, a set-square, a compass, and a ruler marked with evenly spaced cuts.
"With these," Ezra lied; he actually used AMP. This was bait.
"You're measuring with these?" Draffen eyed the items, then picked up the marked rule again and the compass.
"These cuts are fine," he said. "Too fine for timber."
"The idea is to have a standard for units that are small enough so we can adjust and have a baseline for anything we can cut—timber, cloth, metal, and, as you can see, paperwork," Ezra said. "Right now, every shop has its own rule. They all drift and have their own way of measuring things. But if we have standard units, the tanner can talk to the carpenter, and the carpenter can talk to the mason, and the mason can talk to the smith, with them all understanding the same measure."
Draffen paused and stared.
Ezra tapped the compass point lightly on the table. "You don't need a name for the smallest difference," he said. "You need a master measure and a way to compare. Stone crews already do it with dividers and templates. They fit work to a standard and reject what doesn't match."
Draffen's eyes narrowed with interest.
"And you want that here," he said.
"Yes," Ezra replied. "A master rule in Works, and a few check pieces—slot width, spout opening, rail spacing. If it doesn't match, it fails. No argument."
Draffen held the marked rule closer, turning it slightly under the light.
"Can you reproduce these," he asked, "without drift?"
Ezra didn't answer too fast. "Within a deviation that won't matter," he said. "Small enough that it's negligible at the scale we build."
Draffen's gaze stayed on the cuts. "How."
Ezra kept his face steady. "Procedure," he said. "And the same hands. I can make a master. After that, Works doesn't need me to make every copy—only to set the first standard."
Draffen set the rule down slowly.
"That's an interesting proposition," he said. "I'll think about it."
Ezra nodded once.
Draffen's eyes went back to the book, and his voice flattened back into procedure.
His eyes flicked to the conversion table again. "And this."
"It's so that your clerks can read it now," Ezra said, "and learn the faster column without adding a comprehension factor."
Draffen turned a page back and tapped a small circle Ezra had used in the columns.
"What is this?"
"A zero," Ezra said. "It holds the place when there's nothing there."
Draffen's mouth parted slightly, then shut. He looked like he wanted to dismiss it and couldn't find the correct dismissal.
After a beat, Draffen closed the packet halfway, careful with it.
"Where did you get this method?" he asked.
"There is a book in the Press Office," Ezra said, "ask the manager—I meant the head steward, Extos. We have a book about the techniques."
Draffen gave Ezra a long look.
"I haven't heard of a book like this," Draffen said, brows drawing together. "I don't know if we have it in the archives."
"Does it really matter where it came from?" Ezra asked. "If it helps, it helps."
Draffen sat still for a moment, then nodded.
"Very well," he said at last. "I will look into it when I have time."
"For the meantime," he added, "I'm borrowing this."
"Of course," Ezra said, and kept his face straight.
Draffen slid the report to his side, not back across the table.
Ezra reached into his satchel again and set down a second bundle—thicker paper, tied with cord, the edges protected with stiff board.
"This is separate," Ezra said.
Draffen's eyes flicked to it. "What is it?"
"The build plans," Ezra replied. "For the filtration points."
Draffen untied the cord and opened it.
A box shown in section. A lid. A spout. Rails. Layers marked in bands: gravel, sand, charcoal. Notes in a smaller hand along the margins—depths, widths, and a line about keeping the box enclosed.
Draffen's eyes narrowed.
"Enclosed," he said. "Why?"
"So the wind doesn't freeze it as easily," Ezra said, "and so that hands can't reach in and foul it. A lean-to over the box. Lid latched."
Draffen ran a finger along the dimension marks. "Who drew these?"
"I did," Ezra said.
Draffen stared at Ezra again.
He stopped moving for a beat, eyes fixed on the plans as if the measurements had changed the rules of the room.
"You," he said, staring at the boy with a complicated gaze.
"Yes," Ezra replied. "If the foreman has a section and measures from it, we get the same box twice. If he guesses, we get two boxes and we learn nothing."
Draffen stared at the drawings again, then at the neat measurements, then back to Ezra.
"You're measuring everything," he said, quieter than before.
"Yes," Ezra said.
Draffen lowered the plans, hesitated, then lifted them again to study the measurements.
"Now," he said, voice returning to flat procedure, "filters. Sand."
"Slow sand," Ezra corrected. "At the draw points."
Draffen's eyes lifted. "Define 'slow'."
Ezra leaned forward. "Slow enough that the dirt stays trapped. Fast enough that people don't refuse it."
Draffen's mouth tightened. "That's not a definition."
Ezra nodded. "It depends on the box size and head height. We build one, we time it, then we adjust."
Draffen stared at him for a beat, then turned another page.
"And charcoal," he said.
"It's activated charcoal there is a specific method of preparation for it," Ezra replied. "A layer after sand. It removes taste and some smells. It catches things the sand doesn't."
Draffen set the plans down. "Charcoal catches smoke and stink. People know that. They also know it breaks and turns to dust."
"We replace it on schedule," Ezra said, "and then we enforce it."
"Schedules are paper," Draffen said. "Paper doesn't scrub boxes."
Ezra didn't argue because in this case it would waste time, it would be better to convince Draffen through different means.
"We assign maintenance," Ezra said. "Named hands and logs. If the log stops, the box is inspected. If the box is neglected, the man is fined. If the man keeps failing, he's replaced."
Draffen's eyes narrowed slightly. "You want enforcement."
"I want them to know it's better to drink," Ezra said. "It will taste better than the regular water. People will drink what is easiest."
Draffen picked up the chalk and drew a rectangle on a slate board.
"Two wards," he said. "Which ones?"
Ezra pointed at the line items. "The Eighth Ward and the Twenty-Seventh."
Draffen made two marks without looking up. "One is wet and filthy. One is crowded and stubborn. You chose them on purpose."
"Yes," Ezra said. "If it works there, it works anywhere."
Draffen set the chalk down.
"Eighth, I can do," he said. "The Twenty-Seventh is the Dockside Tenements. You put rails and a 'clean spout' there, and you'll need to keep the peace every day for the first week. We don't have enough men for that."
He paused.
"If you insist anyway, expect broken rails and dirty water on purpose."
Ezra didn't answer immediately. He looked at the slate, then back to Draffen.
"I expected resistance," Ezra said. "That's why I chose it. I don't want a trial that only works in polite streets."
Draffen's face stayed flat. "Then you need Peace."
"Yes," Ezra said. "For week one. After that, fines and habit. Works can build a box. It can't change people without backing."
Draffen's eyes narrowed. "Peace patrol is not mine."
"I know," Ezra said. "I'll speak to the Keeper. I'll ask for a written allocation—two men per shift at the draw point for seven days. If he won't give it, we change the second ward and add the Twenty-Seventh in month two."
Draffen watched him a beat. "And sabotage."
"We plan for it," Ezra said. "Lock the lid, control the key to the single spout, then bolt the rails to stone. Daily flow logs. If the flow changes, we inspect. If it's fouled, it's a violation of a posted order, and the Keeper makes the response visible."
Draffen didn't approve it. He didn't reject it either. He turned back to the slate.
"Labor," he said. "Stone. Timber. Sand. Gravel. Charcoal. Two boxes, two spouts, rails. That's not free."
Ezra nodded. "We already spend coin on sick children. We just don't see it because it's spread out."
Draffen didn't respond to that. He drew two more lines on the slate.
"Failure modes," he said. "Clogging. Freezing. People bypassing. People washing rags in it. Animals pushing into it. Someone dumping filth in it out of spite."
Ezra answered without hesitation.
"Rails," he said. "A single draw spout with a shallow basin. A separate wash basin downstream. A posted order. Peace patrol for the first week. After that, fines."
Draffen's eyes lifted. "And winter."
"We build it under the cover," Ezra said. "A lean-to. Keep the box out of direct wind. If it freezes anyway, we drain and restart. The trial is three months; we can choose months that show signal."
Draffen's eyes flicked to the slate. "You want to start now."
"Yes," Ezra said.
Draffen set the chalk down.
"Write me a specification," he said. "Box size, layers, replacement schedule. And write what happens when it fails. I want the procedure before I spend labor."
Ezra nodded. "I already have it. It's in the packet."
Draffen's gaze returned to the pressed title line.
He tapped it once.
Draffen sat back.
"I'll assign a foreman," he said. "Two crews. Ten laborers each for the first build. I'll see to this personally."
Ezra nodded and then walked, bidding farewell.