Now Daniel saw a fresh iron bracket bolted to the far end of the frame. The bracket had a polished surface, new screws, and a shallow groove on one side. He had not ordered it. A heavy cable stretched from it to the upper crossbeam, where a counterweight hung in darkness.
“What is that?” he asked.
Pike stepped in front of it. “An improvement.”
“Who made it?”
“A man who works without talking.”
Daniel looked past him at a pile of packing straw. On the floor beside the bracket was a shallow diamond-shaped heel print with one broken corner.
The same boot had visited his workshop and the drying house.
“Your new man knows nothing about timber under strain,” Daniel said quietly.
Pike smiled. “Then perhaps you should be grateful you have two days to instruct him.”
Daniel studied the cable. The counterweight had been made twice as large as necessary. If its restraining pin slipped, the sliding frame would travel farther than designed and slam through the row of louver arms. The mechanism could snap, sending wood through the inspection platform where committee members would stand.
Or it might do something more deliberate.
Alden had insisted that his guests watch from a narrow gallery directly beside the frame, because a nearby view made for an impressive demonstration. Pike could put anyone he wanted on that gallery. Daniel found himself wondering whose death would be blamed on a carpenter already accused of theft and violence.
“Bring me my measuring rule,” he told Pike.
Pike did not move. “You will use what I provide.”
“Then you will be measuring the wreckage.”
The overseer hesitated. At last he ordered a guard to fetch Daniel’s rule. Daniel had bought thirty seconds in which to think, and half a day in which to work.
3. THE OTHER PRINT
By noon, word of Daniel’s accusation had traveled through the quarters. Some believed Catherine had manufactured it; others believed it but knew that belief would change nothing. Daniel’s sister Ruth came with the midday meal, a small pot of beans and a piece of bread she had kept warm under her shawl.
Ruth was three years younger than Daniel and worked on the estate’s sewing crew. She noticed the guard standing six paces away. She did not ask questions until Daniel took the first bite.
“They have sent for a trader,” she said.
“I know.”
“Then why are you still fixing their contraption?”
“Because it may kill somebody.”
Ruth held his gaze. “That somebody could be you.”
“There are others on the gallery.”
“That is always how they get you,” she whispered. “They put everybody else in danger and leave you to choose who pays.”
