The sudden, golden deep ring of Paxa Sel’s bronze tuning fork cut through the underground silence of the 512-pace datum crossroads with bell-like purity. Paxa held Kezra’s chin firmly with her left hand, angling the map maker’s head toward the lantern light while holding the shaking tines two inches from Kezra’s good right ear.
“Close your eyes,” Paxa commanded, her voice dropping into her skilled cold and exact rhythm. “Don’t guess. Listen to the deepest pitch and tell me if you hear any beating, fluttering, or sound scattering.”
Kezra closed her eyes, letting the darkness of the deep gallery envelope her mind. She listened with intense, focused concentration. In her right ear, the tone of the bronze fork rang centered, pure, and bright. A clean C-natural resonating at two hundred and fifty-six cycles per second, decaying with flawless ringing smoothness. There was no muffled ringing, no hollow fluttering. None of the phantom ocean-roar that had plagued her during the descent.
“Clean tone,” Kezra answered, her voice steady. “C-two-fifty-six. Ringing decay is smooth over four seconds.”
Paxa struck a second, higher fork—an A-four-forty—and held it beside the right ear. Again, Kezra identified the pitch instantly, tracking its decay to the final split second.
