Atlas spent the morning doing what the city asked of him.
He helped an old woman lift baskets of washed linen onto a cart near the east market. The baskets were heavy with damp cloth, and her wrists shook when she tried to manage them alone.
He took the weight without comment. She thanked him with a nod and a muttered blessing that still carried the old accent from the northern districts. He carried two full water jars for a healer's apprentice whose diagnostic charm had burned out halfway through examining a child's sprained ankle.
The apprentice looked embarrassed more than grateful, but accepted the help. Later, a baker pressed a heel of still-warm bread into his hand and refused the coin Atlas offered. "You look like you walked a long way," the man said, and turned back to his oven.
