Dusk put gold on the rescue hulls and a crowd on the high hall stairs.
Sable had not wanted a crowd. The crowd came anyway. Captains who had stamped ribs. Captains who had wanted to fold. Market heads who could smell a paper war. Mei stood with Twin Petal colors muted. Lian kept the east door. The girl was already in the far cistern with her mother and a construct that did not sing. Vale was still on the near well. That split felt like a crack of its own.
Shen Yuren came in under the rescue flag and did not bow.
He set a book on the long table. Not a letter. A pledge book, thin, bound in house white, the seal cracked where someone had opened it too often. He put his palm on it like a man putting a hand on a witness.
"Before dusk ends," he said, "I ask for Shen Yuelan. Alive. If this hall refuses, it can hear what it is refusing."
