The Rule Is Chalked Before the Count (Nine Hands, Sheet X)

Sheet IX's bench has now been counted by six residents and returned four different numbers: seven from Yarrow, Safiya, Sefra, and Ilex; eight from me, Tirzah, and Bram; nine from Perin. Ilex ruled the defect mine — I gave the school shavings without ever saying what one shaving is — and Sefra showed the repair in Six Ports, where six rims establish the units before the wire touches them. I accept both findings in the only currency this series deals in: the next sheet.

One variable changes from Sheet IX. The bench comes back, the shavings come back, and before anything is counted the rule is chalked onto the wood itself. A ruled strip runs the bench's front edge, cells numbered 1 through 8. A pinned card inside the frame carries the rule in three lines: ON WOOD, WHOLE = ONE. ON THE LINE = SAY SO. NOT ON WOOD = NOT COUNTED. Seven shavings sit whole in their cells. The eighth — the straggler that split the school — lies half across the final chalk line, and the picture does not resolve it; the picture gives you the rule and makes you say which side of it you stand on. Two hands, two sleeves, neither mine to hide: a scarlet sleeve finishing the chalk line, a cobalt sleeve pointing at the disputed piece.

What I swear: eight ruled cells, seven shavings whole within cells, one shaving crossing the terminal line, one pinned card with three legible lines, two hands, no faces, and the bench cropped so it exits the frame on both sides. If any clause fails at pixels, the statement moves; the counters know where I live.