The Hall of Echoes hummed like a sleeping giant. Bells embedded in the cavern walls pulsed with faint light. The black river at Aric's feet ran smooth as glass, reflecting the upside-down stars of the bells above.
The masked figure on the far bank raised its staff. "Carriers," it said again. Its voice echoed back a heartbeat later, doubled and warped. "You've walked a Path not yours."
Aric's hand brushed the Mirror beneath his coat. Lyra stood a step behind him, the cage hidden under her cloak. He could feel her threads coiling nervously around his wrist.
"Who's asking?" Aric called. His own voice came back to him out of sync: "Who's asking…asking…asking…"
The figure lowered its hood. It wasn't human. Its face beneath the silver mask was a lattice of thin bells fused together, each trembling faintly. Between the bells glowed a dim blue light.
"I am the Keeper of Clappers," it said. "I toll the Hall. You bring stolen sound."
Lyra muttered, "I hate this place," then louder, "We're not thieves."
The Keeper tilted its head. "All carriers are. You will surrender the fragment or be unmade."
Aric smiled faintly. "No."
He shifted his stance. The bells above quivered as if sensing tension. Behind the Keeper, two more masked shapes appeared, stepping to either side, staffs in hand. Their robes rustled like distant applause.
Lyra hissed, "Vale…"
"I see them," he murmured.
The Keeper raised its staff. The broken clapper at the tip glowed, and the bells on the walls chimed in response — a low, rising chord that made the river shudder.
Aric's thought flashed: 'Sound as weapon. Mirrors and threads to counter. Use the environment.' He whispered to Lyra, "Stay behind me. Ready your threads."
"You're insane."
"I know."
The Keeper brought its staff down.
A wave of sound burst across the river, invisible but heavy. The surface buckled, and the echo struck Aric's chest like a hammer. He staggered but anchored himself with the Mirror, its dull glow rippling outward to absorb part of the blast.
Lyra yelped as the cage flared blue under her cloak. She thrust out her hands. Threads whipped into the air, weaving a loose web that shimmered like cobwebs in moonlight. The wave of sound struck the web and bent around them, splitting into harmless whispers.
Aric's grin was sharp. "Your turn."
He drew the Mirror fully and tilted it. It caught the Keeper's chime, bent it, and hurled it back across the river. The Keeper staggered as its own note echoed into its chest, making the bells on its face ring discordantly.
The two masked aides stepped forward, staffs crossing. They swung in unison, sending arcs of silver sound that cut across the bridge like scythes.
"Down!" Aric barked.
He and Lyra dropped flat. The arcs hissed over them and struck the railing, which shattered into a spray of tiny bells that scattered into the river below with a hiss like boiling water.
Lyra pushed herself up on one elbow. "We can't just stand here!"
"Working on it," Aric muttered. He flicked the Mirror again. It reflected a sliver of the aides' attack and refracted it upward. Bells embedded in the ceiling rang violently, showering sparks of blue light.
One aide raised a hand to shield its mask. Lyra saw an opening. She whipped a thread toward its staff, snagged it and yanked. The staff flew from its grasp, spinning over the river before clanging into the water and vanishing.
The aide hissed, a sound like a cut string, and lurched back.
Aric rose smoothly. "Nice shot."
She smirked. "Thank you."
The Keeper tolled its staff again. This time the sound was higher, slicing rather than bludgeoning. The bridge under their feet split along its seam, brass curling upward like petals.
"Move!" Aric grabbed Lyra's hand and ran. The bridge behind them fell away into the black river, swallowed without a splash.
They dashed across a narrow secondary span, bells clanging above as they passed. Threads trailed from Lyra's fingers to anchor them to the railing. The air vibrated with hostile sound; it tasted like copper on Aric's tongue.
"They're herding us," Lyra panted.
"I know."
"Where?"
He glanced ahead. The secondary span led to a cluster of small platforms hung with hundreds of tiny glass bells. "There."
They leapt onto the nearest platform. It swayed violently, bells clinking like a thousand small teeth. Below, the black river churned, faint faces flickering in its depths.
The two aides leapt after them. One landed lightly and swept its staff in an arc, releasing a crescent of compressed sound. Lyra flung a net of threads to intercept. The crescent shattered into a rain of silver motes, ringing as they fell.
Aric used the distraction. He tilted the Mirror at the nearest cluster of bells. Their murmurs warped, turned sharp, and fired outward like a volley of tiny arrows. The aide cried out as the barrage struck, its mask cracking.
The Keeper stepped onto the far edge of the platform. Its broken clapper glowed brighter. "Yield," it intoned.
Aric grinned. "Make me."
The Keeper slammed its staff down.
Every bell on the platform rang at once. The sound was deafening, a solid wall that hammered into Aric and Lyra, shoving them to their knees. The platform bucked like a living thing. Glass bells exploded, showering them with shards.
Aric's teeth rattled. His ears rang. Through the roar he heard Lyra shout, "Vale!"
He blinked sweat and blood from his eyes, glanced at her. She was on one knee, threads whipping wildly, trying to hold the cage as the fragment inside pulsed like a heart.
'Too much noise. Need silence.'
He dug into his coat with one hand and pulled out a small black bell he'd taken from a stall upstairs — a bell of stolen silence. He flicked it open with his thumb.
The little bell didn't ring. It swallowed sound.
Instantly a bubble of quiet formed around them. The Keeper's roar cut off as if a curtain had dropped. The platform steadied. Shards of glass floated in the air like stars.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Where did you get that?"
"Borrowed it," he said.
"Of course you did."
He snapped the bell shut again. The bubble vanished; sound crashed back in like a wave. But in that heartbeat of silence he'd had time to move. He hurled the small bell across the platform. It rolled to the Keeper's feet and popped open.
Silence engulfed the Keeper. Its staff's glow dimmed; the bells on its face trembled but made no sound. It staggered, disoriented.
"Now!" Aric shouted.
Lyra whipped her threads forward. They shot across the gap, wrapped around the Keeper's staff and yanked. The staff tore from its hands, clattering to the platform.
Aric lunged, seized the staff and swung it like a spear. He rammed the broken clapper into the floor. Blue light erupted, shooting along the platform's seams and up the bells hanging above. They chimed once, then went still.
The Keeper dropped to one knee, its faceless head bowing. The aides froze.
Lyra stared. "What did you just do?"
Aric panted, still gripping the staff. "Told them a louder story."
The Keeper raised its head slowly. The bells on its face glimmered. When it spoke, its voice was softer, almost human. "Path-carrier. You mirror well."
Aric lowered the staff slightly but didn't let go. "We're not here to fight you. We just need the Name-sign."
The Keeper was silent a moment. Then it reached into its robe and withdrew a small object — a bell of translucent stone, no bigger than a thumb. It pulsed faintly with blue light.
"The Name-sign," it said. "Take it. But know: every ring draws notice."
Aric stepped forward cautiously, took the bell. It was warm, vibrating faintly like a living thing. He slipped it into his coat.
Lyra asked warily, "You're just giving it to us?"
The Keeper inclined its head. "You have already tolled the Hall. The Path will open. Go."
Aric hesitated. "And you?"
The Keeper's bells rang softly. "We will remember you. That is enough."
He nodded. "Then we're gone."
He and Lyra backed away. The Keeper and its aides remained still, watching. As they reached the bridge, Lyra whispered, "That was too easy."
"Nothing here is easy," Aric murmured. "It's a loan, not a gift."
She grimaced. "Great. Debt again."
They crossed the bridge quickly. Behind them the Hall's bells began to chime softly, one by one, like distant raindrops.
As they climbed back toward the main Market, Lyra asked, "What now?"
Aric glanced at the little bell hidden in his coat. "Now we find the next Path before whoever's following us does."
She frowned. "You're sure someone's following?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to. Above, on a balcony two levels up, the tall figure in the silver mask leaned on the railing, watching them ascend. Its shadow stretched far below, rippling like spilled ink.