The iron latch on the dry masonry niche clicked home under Tessa Dene’s thumb just as the outer gate bell rang once through the wet hill mist.
Noll Vey felt the sound in two places at once. The bronze bell vibrated along the damp lime mortar of the courtyard arch, while six paces inside the passage, the heavy clapperless stone bell Tessa had just wedged behind the oak shutter answered with a low, tooth-deep hum that died before it reached the floor. Noll pulled his attention up from the dark bedrock seam below the foundations—where that barred ring of ancient stone seats still sat locked against his sight—and spread his awareness across the five rooms of his Hearth-rank reach.
Out on the slick shale track climbing from Mere, only one pair of boots was pressing into the mud.
There was no rhythmic clink of Survey guard mail, no second set of heels lagging behind to complain about the grade, and no creak of a mule harness. Whoever had rung the gate bell had climbed the hill road alone, walking fast enough to splash cold ditch-water up to his knees and pausing only at the threshold stone to turn down the collar of a soaked wool coat.
