At the southern portal of Entry hall 644. There, the domestic warmth of the Great Burl gave way to the cold, updrafting gale of the lower deep pit, the entire clan of Silt-Dwellers gathered to bid farewell to the travelers.
The circular portal was framed by two huge stone support prop roots of stone-hard ginkgo, carved with protective water-glyphs of the First Dynasty. Beyond the threshold, the dark deep gap opened downward into a huge, mist-filled gulf where the red flares of the Abyssal Foundries flickered with increasing hum against the distant clouds of stone steam.
The gateway itself was an ancient high-pressure airlock, fitted with heavy sliding doors of dense cedar timber that could be sealed with bronze turnstiles during ground-shaking floods. Along the portal jambs, four bronze water-meters recorded the downward flow of the water drops channels, their fluted needles trembling in sympathy with the deep shakes rising from the floor.
Clan-Mother Zhen stood at the center of the threshold, with Elder Xiu, hunter Ke, and the four master scribes. The hundreds of clan members who lined the tiered balconies above held small sound rattles made from dried seed-pods. It shook them in a gentle, nonstop rhythm that sounded like dry autumn leaves rustling before a mountain squall.
