The six hours of deep, unmoving sleep on the four-hundred-pace rock shelf had performed a physical restoration that no magical elixir could duplicate. Kezra Venn stood up on the cold banded rock floor. Then, her muscles felt supple, her reflexes sharp. The dull, burning ache that had colonized her forearms and lower back was gone.
Paxa Sel conducted a rigorous morning test. She struck the bronze C-tuning fork against her boot. Then she held it four inches from Kezra’s right ear.
“Middle C,” Kezra answered instantly, without a split second’s pause. “Two hundred and fifty-six cycles. The tone is clear, bright, and centered.”
Paxa checked Kezra’s outstretched fingers, finding zero tremor along the extensor tendons. Then she tested her pupillary reflex against the lamp flame. “Body ledger is fully restored,” Paxa confirmed, packing her instruments with a brisk nod of satisfaction. “Your hearing threshold is normal, your muscular control is clean, and your blood sugar is steadied. You’re fit to sound the basal plane.”
Fellis Dain returned from the intermediate landing. He carried two freshly trimmed animal fat torches and the main twenty-four-thread measuring reel. “The upper castle is quiet, Kez. Krail accepted my written dispatch. He believes we spent the night clearing rock-dust and waiting for the gorge vent to flush the shaft. Hest Vale’s riders haven’t left the back gate. The lines are locked and ready.”
