Ty saw bare feet above Tower Five, and the city chose where to drop him.
His loose ribs struck the cradle together. The black rail beneath his spine became a floor. Water that had crossed between both stair gutters slapped the iron beside his head and ran toward the fixed ward drains.
His handless left arm swung in against his side.
The shoulder seated cleanly.
Relief made him stupid for one breath. Nothing pulled that arm toward House Twelve. His right wrist stopped trying to climb through Jade's palm. Every present piece of him agreed that down lay beneath the cradle.
He could have stood.
The lower roadback came apart outside the tower.
First went the address bells. Hundreds struck together as their ropes changed weight. Then screws tore from the outer housing in a line that ran beyond Ty's sight. A row of sleeping shelves peeled free. Blankets, cook pots, and three occupied beds followed.
