Ferra locked the crucible clamps as Hajin jogged back in from the guarded yard, soot already on his collar.
"Hans has the outside," he wheezed, tapping the bead at his ear, "perimeter's confirmed, so slap me wherever you want me."
She jabbed her tongs toward the chalk beside the master anvil, "Alignment marks, right there, and don't you dare drift."
Below the loft the pumps answered, and the twenty-one-minute interval began with his three Rings aligned beside her forge halo.
"Seventy-two cycles each second," she ordered, keeping her hand on the feed control, "hold it within half a cycle, my clamps won't carry a wandering solar feed."
"Seventy-two, half a cycle, easy, I can count that high."
"You couldn't count your own fingers this morning."
"Those were bandaged, that's cheating!"
