The ninth stroke of the clappered bell did not end when the sound died in the high rafters of the Hall of Witness.
It lingered as a dry tremor under Noll Vey’s right stone knee, shivering through cold mortar where his basalt joints pressed into the floor. In his mind, through the thinning web of his Dominion reach, he followed the vibration down every throat of the hill. He felt the iron counter-weight boxes drop in the junction vault with a solid impact that settled his teeth. He felt the blast shutters seat home against their oak frames. He felt the mountain wind rush through the lower sluice as the three gravity levers locked open, carrying out the last sour tang of coal smoke from the empty aid station and kitchen.
Then, from the bottom of the lower drainage arch, a lantern swung once in a clean, slow circle.
Sella Rusk’s signal. Ground accounted for. Boundary secured.
An instant later, the iron bell on the western platform gave a faint rattle as the hemp pull-cord went slack. The clapper swung twice against the lip, tapping out two small iron notes, and rested motionless.
INTERIOR ROOMS CLEAR / GRACE WINDOW OPEN
