“It didn't work,” said Simony, bitterly.
“Did you-?”
“We did everything! Something broke!”
“It must be the steel they make here,” said Urn. "The link pins on-
“That doesn't matter now,” said Simony.
The flat tones of his voice made Urn follow the eyes of the crowd.
There was another iron turtle there-a proper model of a turtle, mounted on a sort of open gridwork of metal bars in which a couple of inquisitors were even now lighting a fire. And chained to the back of the turtle-
“Who's that?”
“Brutha.”
“What?”
“I don't know what happened. He hit Vorbis, or didn't hit him. Or something. Enraged him anyway. Vorbis stopped the ceremony, right there and then.”
Urn glanced at the deacon. Not Cenobiarch yet, so uncrowned. Among the Iams and bishops standing uncertainly in the open doorway, his bald head gleamed in the morning light.
anyone a lever long enough and they can change the world. It's unreliable levers that are the problem.
In the depths of the Temple's hidden plumbing, Urn grasped a bronze pipe firmly with his spanner and gave the nut a cautious turn. It resisted. He changed position, and grunted as he used more pressure.
With a sad little metal sound, the pipe twisted-and broke . . .
Water gushed out, hitting him in the face. He dropped the tool and tried to block the flow with his fingers, but it spurted around his hands and gurgled down the channel towards one of the weights.
“Stop it! Stop it!” he shouted.
“What?” said Fergmen, several feet below him.
“Stop the water!”
“How?”
“The pipe's broken!”
“I thought that's what we wanted to do?”
“Not yet!”
“Stop shouting, mister! There's guards around!”
Urn let the water gush for a moment as he struggled out of his robe, and then he rammed the sodden material into the pipe. It shot out again with some force and slapped wetly against the lead funnel, sliding down until it blocked the tube that led to the weights. The water piled up behind it and then spilled over on to the floor.
Urn glanced at the weight. It hadn't begun to move.
He relaxed slightly. Now, provided there was still enough water to make the weight drop . . .
“Both of you-stand still.”
He looked around, his mind going numb.
There was a heavy-set man in a black robe standing in the stricken doorway. Behind him, a guard held a sword in a meaningful manner.