Nobody spoke when the twenty-foot black bronze pillar fell silent.
For as long as any living person in the twelve valleys could remember—and for hundreds of years before that, back to the founding of the Aperture Court’s mountain stations—the summit of this peak had shook with a low, ceaseless five-count hum. Generation after generation of test judges had tended its brass pipe hubs. Generation after generation of unlisted fighters and valley youths had been strapped to its stone couches as living balance weights to keep the upper seal quiet on the Court’s terms.
For the past twenty winters, the heart of that bronze lattice had been Nara Soth.
Even five days ago, when Seyun and Mina had helped Nara step out of the main central socket on Day 1, the one-armed challenger had not truly been free of the rig. Seven children had still been wired to the outer ring of the pillar she had left behind. Her own temporary balance weight had still been tied to Chief Examiner Vaska’s twelve-hour clock. And every step she had taken down into the Chamber of Permitted Shapes had been fought under the shadow of a hostage bargain.
Now, in the bright morning sunlight of Day 7, the bronze collar at the center of the pillar hung open and cold with snow drifting across its iron latches. Around its base, all seven stone couches were empty. Sitting by the warm pine-pitch fire bowls, all twelve valley youths were wrapped in wool blankets, drinking…
