Page 105 of Pocket Wife

Lucy does not. “Burial guardians.”

Celia comes forward.

Not quickly. Not gently either. She takes the burial list from Jessa and places her bandaged hand on top of it. “Guardians of the north rise, west rise, and infant stones. Updated at every death. Not by blood only. By who prepared the ground, who witnessed the burial, who promised return.”

Sen’s expression cools. “A funerary custom.”

Celia turns to the tribunal display. “A custody chain.”

I almost smile.

Salo taps his stylus once. “Proceed.”

The planting-share ledger comes last.

Samuel opens it. Eleanor sits nearby, too tired to stand but not too tired to watch. Samuel’s voice carries the roughness of soil and sleeplessness. “Seed and harvest shares. Updated every planting cycle. The same fields Helix marked dormant fed clinic stores, school meals, and trade caravans this year.”

Lucy takes the chalk again and writes three words on the board.

Water.

Burial.

Harvest.

Then she draws a line beneath them.

“Helix says I am compromised,” she says. “Fine. Then do not take my word alone. The covenant did not put the valley in one person’s hands. It put survival in shared duty.”

Sen steps forward. “Miss Hartwell is making argument without recognized authority.”

Lucy turns to the hall. “Then recognize it.”

Salo lifts a hand. “Careful, Miss Hartwell.”

Lucy nods. “Formal response, then. Mayor Reeve, under current council rules, can the resident body call emergency appointment?”

Alden checks the oldest slate. “Yes. If immediate threat exists to common land, water, burial, or harvest.”

“Does immediate threat exist?”

Alden faces the tribunal. “Yes.”

Sen objects. Salo overrules.

Lucy continues. “How many registered households are required?”

“Two-thirds quorum.”

“How many are present or connected by verified relay?”

Jessa checks the count. Her fingers move across the slate. Then she checks the remote seals again, household by household, pausing over each relay confirmation before she dares speak.

“Fifty-nine present,” she says. “Nine verified remote. Total sixty-eight voting households. Two-thirds quorum met.”

A tremor goes through the room, but no one breaks order.

Lucy sets the chalk down. “Then call it.”