At eleven, Neri set a cup of tea beside Hesta's catalogue. Hesta took the tea. Beneath it was a sheet of paper.
“What is this?”
“The strip from the cradle. I copied it under the inspection lamp.”
Hesta put on her spectacles. Neri had printed the words in large, round letters, as though addressing someone at a considerable distance.
Whole weather of one day. To be returned through the original public outlet, Catchment One. Separation or private discharge prohibited: mixed pressure. Use within one hour of breaking the seal.
Hesta read it twice.
Catchment One was the entire town. The original outlet was the tower above the Exchange. Most lots could now be piped into a customer's garden or street. This one could not.
“I tested the cradle's warning reed,” Neri said. “It has been sounding all morning.”
Hesta lifted the vessel from its cradle. A fine needle of brass protruded beside the glass. She could see it trembling.
She brought her ear close. Nothing.
“It is a very high note,” Neri added.
“I know what kind of note it is.”
She lowered the vessel carefully. The reed continued its silent trembling.
“The seal is lifting,” Neri said. “We should discharge it, not sell it.”
Hesta's first response was so hot and so ready that she did not trust it. She drank her tea. It was cold.
“The town owns it. We cannot simply open municipal stock.”
“Then ask Rusk.”
“And tell him what? That we found a label on an antique? We routinely find labels.”
Neri took the cup away before Hesta could drink again.
“Tell him about the seal.”
Hesta looked towards the hall. Mr. Pell was examining a bottle of sunset. He held it beside his cheek, trying the colour against himself. Beyond him, through the open doors, the fountain stood empty. A sparrow hopped along its rim and pecked at the stone.
Bellwether had had twenty-seven expensive, beautifully arranged dry days. The council had sold the last three heavy rain catches to the dye works, which paid better than household subscriptions. Until the nets caught more, families were fetching water from the reservoir beyond the hill. Hesta had fetched her own that morning. It was not a catastrophe. It was a bucket carried uphill by someone who could no longer pretend it was light.
Mr. Rusk needed money for the pumps. Mr. Pell wanted something old and picturesque. Hesta wanted the largest sale of her career. Thursday had declined to distinguish among these requirements.
She carried Neri's sheet into the hall.
“We must amend the lot description,” she told Rusk. “And there will be no delivery to the hotel. Public outlet only.”
He frowned. “Pell is our serious bidder.”
“Then he should receive a serious description.”
She showed him the trembling reed and the thin bead of moisture forming beneath the stopper. Rusk watched the bead crawl around the neck.
“How long?”
“No sound vessel behaves like that,” she said. “It must be opened today.”
“Can the town release it?”
“Yes. But the council would have to withdraw it from sale.”
He pressed a finger to the sum in his ledger. “Eighty silver buys the pump belt. The present one is held together with wire. The fitter is waiting with the replacement, but he will not install it until I pay. Sell it for public discharge. Someone will want it.”
Hesta could have argued. Rusk could have sought an emergency order. Neither did. The decision was smaller and less admirable than Hesta would later have liked to remember: she still believed she could make a splendid sale.
She rang the viewing bell. The low note reached her without difficulty.
“An amendment, my fortunate friends. Thursday must be released here, through the public tower, today. No weather is promised individually. You buy the whole day, whatever it contains, for Bellwether.”
Pell put down the sunset.
“For everyone?”
“The extent of Catchment One.”
“My opening is next week.”
“Then Thursday will be early.”
He did not smile. Hesta heard the squeak of his shoe as he turned away.
Neri brought her the new lot card. Every condition was printed on it. At the bottom she had added: No refund for rain.
“That is vulgar,” Hesta said.
“It is clear.”
Hesta left it there.