The six outer sockets of Heaven’s Measure didn’t remain empty for long after Ilyra and Hall Mistress Soran stepped back inside the dark rock doorway.
The second half of the third watch settled over the northern ridge. Then, the pale dust of the shattered fins stopped drifting toward the eastern gorge. Above the split granite shelf, the dark central spindle ceased its upright back-and-forth swing. With a dry, metal click that traveled down the fault wall and set the three four-inch copper needles humming in Seyun’s field pouch, the upper ring of the rig unfolded eight long, paper-thin ribs of tarnished silver light.
Instead of pointing downward toward the second cairn or the iron boundary peg at the threshold, the eight ribs locked into a wide, flat octagon thirty zhang above the ridge. Fine threads of pale light stretched from corner to corner across the inside of the ring until the sky directly overhead looked like the diagram of a spoked survey wheel. Or the ancient eight-sided seal carved into the top door beam stones of the ruined Listening Crown cloisters three hundred years ago.
Inside the recess, Nara Soth stopped breathing for a single beat.
She stood near the right-hand door post, her empty left sleeve pinned flat against her ribs by its brass clasp, her scarred right hand resting against the cold stone. The eight-sided lattice settled into place overhead. Then, the grey hair at her temples lifted slightly in the dry static. The pale, knotted scars visible…
