Tavin had his hand on the lift lever when the lamps flickered the second time.
He left it where it was. He had not pulled it the first time either. He had put his hand there because it was where his hand went when something over his head was hanging on a cable, the way it went to the quench tongs when a billet came out of the fire. Ready, and still.
The lamps dipped. Longer this time. The hum dropped to a growl and the light went yellow and thin, and the heart above the port turned a few degrees on its slings and stopped.
Then the lamps came back.
Brighter than before, for an instant, and then steady. Tavin did not trust the steadiness.
“Relay room,” Eshel said.
He was already moving. Across the chamber, past the rack, to the north wall’s door. He had the rack’s portable reader on its strap round his neck, and he unclipped its probe as he went.
Tavin watched him go and kept his hand on the lever.
