The control alcove was barely wide enough for two people. Muo held the lamp while Han inspected the wall panel. The guardian’s cords kept scraping across the stone behind them, each pull moving Yan half a step from his place.
Daro opened the pylon manual to the diagram he had found. The page showed two control lines: one for the registry shelf, one for the harbor alarm. A narrow latch joined them. Salt had fused the metal.
“If I cut this whole channel,” Muo said, “both lines could go dark.”
“Can the latch be opened by hand?” Han asked.
Daro leaned close to the drawing. “Yes. But the tool has to go beside the cords.”
The control alcove had a low stone lip around the panel. A fall against it could break the old lever or pin whoever reached for the latch. Han tested the flagstone with her boot and found a slick patch where salt dust had settled. She told Daro to work from the dry edge and placed one foot against the lower frame so it could not shift.
“I can hold the lever,” she said. “You keep your hand clear of the registry pin until Muo identifies it.”
