Even as Korr spoke, a sound like an iron cannon firing echoed from the depths of Sub-Cellar 4. The stone landing beneath their boots dropped a quarter of an inch with a sickening lurch that sent Eren stumbling against the curved wall.
A jagged, three-inch fissure ripped across the vaulted ceiling above them. It tore through the four-foot cut stone blocks as if they were dry parchment. From the darkness of the crack came a violent, hissing jet of scalding white stone steam that filled the stairwell with the dense, choking stench of sulfur and boiled peat.
“Out!” Korr bellowed, seizing Eren’s leather apron and shoving him up the spiral stairs. “Up the stairs! Move!” The two veteran mechanics scrambled upward through the blinding steam, their boots slipping on the lime dust that rained down from the ceiling joints. Behind them, pieces of decorative stone moulding snapped from the arches, crashing into the sump below with thunderous splashes.
They burst through the heavy cedar door into the Ferry Museum gallery. It slammed the iron drop-bolts home. Just then, a violent underground rumble shook the floorboards beneath their feet. Eren leaned against the doorpost, his chest heaving, his face white beneath his gray beard. “Sub-Cellar Four is gone, Pella,” Eren rasped, pointing a trembling finger at the floor. “The ceiling has snapped. The main memory nook is fully buried under twenty tons of fallen cut stone. There’s no way in.”
