The silence behind the ninth door lasted so long that Tessa Dene lowered her bread knife and looked toward the cellar stairhead at the far end of the Grand Hall.
For three days and nights, ever since the maturity clock had dropped below ninety hours and the inner vault had begun stretching itself to hold a feast the size of a royal expeditionary force, the ninth room had never been wholly quiet. Even when the creature inside was trying its hardest to keep its elbows tucked in and its black-glass spoons out of the children’s dormitory, there had always been the low, grinding rumble of table legs shifting across bedrock and the dry whisper of a hundred phantom napkins unfolding in the dark.
Now nothing moved behind the oak arch at the foot of the cellar steps.
Noll Vey folded the single page of Cale’s numbered list, tucked it under the belt of his stone tunic, and walked down the length of the Grand Hall toward the lower stairhead. Hesta Quill, Tessa, and Prit followed him at three paces, their footsteps echoing softly among the empty rehearsal chairs.
At the bottom of the twelve stone steps stood the ninth door.
