Chapter 123: Faces Up

The iron eye tore one handspan down the wall and stopped with a rusted scream.

Its bight held. The drop snapped Dane’s return line against his intact rear rail, wrenched his open front into stone, and filled the new skinned strip with black water.

Six voices fell out of the air.

Stone struck a drowned slab below them. The impact came through the wall, the water, and every shallow plane Dane had kept open. A wave rolled him away from the wall; the trapped bight pulled him back hard enough to make his old RIGHT-quarter split close around rod one.

"The eye caught in a lower root," Marda shouted from near stone. "Line still through. All six went under the shelf."

Orsa’s voice followed, rougher and lower. "Shelf is wedged on a drowned slab. There’s air against the wall. The opening points at Dane and it’s shrinking."

Marda drove the near crowd away from the wet lip. "Voss, keep that drain breathing. Flat Hands gets the rope. Nobody gives him thirty-two more bodies to catch."

A shout escaped the pocket. "Air here!"

Wood struck stone twice beneath the fallen shelf.

"Rail’s under my knee," another adult called. "Get it across the gap before the shelf eats it."

The broken reed grated sideways. Its far end bit wall; the other pressed into the sinking stone. Bubbles slipped from the narrow seam and burst against Dane’s left plane.

Dane lowered that plane toward them.

He spread the shallow center until trapped water touched his Coffin grain, then raised two Stall-fine ribs along the outer edge. The water gap behind them stayed clear, every side below their shoulders.

A bare heel hammered his lowered plane. The adult attached to it came backward under the rail, hooked one elbow around Dane’s nearer rib, and left both legs kicking inside the dark.

"I have your coat," the bare-heeled adult said into the pocket. "Kick when I pull."

The next body hit Dane chest-first. Warm blood ran from a hairline cut, crossed the open grain, and reached one of his hidden teeth. The old chest hinge gathered before Dane could stop it.

He pressed the tooth flat.

The bleeding adult caught the broken rail instead of climbing clear. Together, they hauled while another stone landed overhead and forced a hard breath of pocket air through the seam.

Two adults broke the surface against each other. One had abandoned the rail to keep both hands beneath the other’s jaw. The supported adult coughed gray water across Dane, found his right edge, and kicked until both hips cleared the pocket.

"Four faces," Marda called. "Two still under."

Four warm backs shifted on Dane’s planes. Coffin grain wanted walls around them. Lid weight collected along the wall side, promising to keep every struggling body exactly where it had landed.

Dane sank the hinge into his own grain and held the center open.

The shell lash drew tight above him.

An adult surfaced with the cord between their teeth. They spat it across Dane’s plane, caught his safest rib, then shouted into the pocket.

"Last one’s shoulder is caught."

"Don’t drag it," the trapped voice said. Pain shortened every word. "Turn my wrist toward the wall."

The ledge settled again. The broken rail bent; its split end began to unzip.

The adult with the lash let go of Dane’s safe rib and put both palms under the rail. Water covered their mouth. They held anyway, buying the bleeding adult enough room to reach through the seam.

"I have the wrist," the bleeding adult said. "Tell me when."

"Now. Wall first."

The wrist turned. A shoulder scraped stone, stopped, then folded through without the arm being pulled straight. The freed adult came face-first onto Dane with the injured arm tight behind the back.

The rail snapped.

Stone closed the pocket hard enough to blow its last air across Dane’s open center. Human warmth crowded his open grain.

"All six out," Marda shouted. "Wall is still shedding. Move them off it."

The adult still coughing water reached for a rib already crowded by two hands and took the return rope instead. A heel landed on the bleeding adult’s ribs.

They caught the ankle and shoved it outward. "Put that in the water and apologize later."

The heel began sculling.

Beside them, the adult with the lash kept a palm beneath the freed shoulder until its owner moved the arm without help. The hand came away. The injured adult tucked the aching limb against their ribs and caught Ada’s medicine cord with the other.

Pebbles rattled from the wall notch. The same cord jerked above Dane, followed by the dry scrape of shell.

"Pull the lash," Marda called. "Your plates are coming loose."

The adult with the lash hauled hand over hand. Dane presented one low rib beneath the wall.

The first centipede plate struck that rib. Two adults caught its paired holes and laid the curve outside their hips. The second came down on top of Ada’s parcel; the injured adult trapped the cloth against Dane with a forearm while the shell slid past.

Ada shouted across the gap. "Is the cloth dry?"

The adult bent close enough to smell it. "Dry. Bitter enough to insult me."

"Then it works. Keep it above your knees."

The third plate hit water edge-on. Hands caught its lash before it could dive, rolled the curve flat, and passed it toward Dane’s rear rail. It settled between two backs and the return rope.

Three shell curves pressed his left, right, and rear edges. Ada’s parcel remained on his open center under a living forearm.

The broken rail scraped along his front plane. Its holder shoved one floating stone away from the old axle housing, then reached for the far bight. The eye had caught lower in its wall root, and the fall had cinched rope too tight for fingers.

"Give me room to twist it," the rail-holder said.

A fresh stone stole the room and struck Dane’s left plane.

Three adults flinched toward his damaged RIGHT quarter. Their hips crossed his center before any foot found water.

The right plane went under.

Cold entered the old split. The bleeding adult’s cough cut off under water. Dane drove his bounded ballast toward the dead rail, reached its limit, and felt six bodies continue the roll without it.

Warmth crowded the low side. The old lid gathered over exposed throats, ready to make stability by closing.

Dane forced it down while the water climbed.

"Right side is under. Water’s at my ear," the bare-heeled adult shouted.

Brant answered from near stone. "Top of the rope is turning away from you. Vera, mark the live twist."

A thin heat touched the return rope and wound toward Dane along one upper strand. Blue burned through the twist without changing its pull, hot enough for his rear knot to feel each half-turn.

"Blue is high," someone gasped against his grain. "Move toward it."

The rear pair shoved their shell plate clear of the heated strand and kicked toward it. On the submerged side, the injured adult released the outer rib, slid both hips across Dane, and used the good arm to drag the bleeding adult’s shoulder with them. At his front, the rail-holder planted split wood against the falling ledge and shoved Dane’s nose away from stone.

The two adults on the high side stopped bracing their plate and sculled.

Near hands pulled once when Brant called. Dane’s ballast held at its limit. Human motion kept going around it.

His right plane rose beneath wet shoulder blades. An ear cleared. The bleeding adult coughed, spat over the side, and kicked until the returning chop stopped crossing their mouth.

Heat reached Dane’s rear knot, showed the last half-turn, and died.

"Now give me the rail."

The split end entered the tightened bight. The rail-holder twisted until the free tongue crept through the lower-caught iron eye. One more bare-heel kick loosened Dane’s angle.

The far bight spilled free.

Flat Hands took the near line around the black mineral foot. Kril and Lye Scar added their backs. Vera fed the untwisted rope through her wrapped right hand without closing it, while Brant kept both injured arms against his body and called the haul by chin.

Dane moved away from the collapsed ledge. Across his open grain, two adults sculled with the left shell plate while two worked the right through shorter, uneven strokes. The rear plate kept rope from sawing between shoulders; one freed arm stayed close to its owner’s ribs while the other hand guarded Ada’s parcel. Split reed pushed stones away from Dane’s front, and every available heel kicked.

Behind them, the last trapped bubble reached Dane’s grain and popped into water and stone.

"Six faces," Marda called. "All breathing. Ada, one scalp cut and one shoulder."

"Cut stays up. Shoulder stays close," Ada answered. "Bring me the people before the plates."

The adult over the medicine spluttered. "Parcel is still dry. I’m not."

"People first includes you."

Six separate chests kept lifting against Dane’s open surface. One coughed, one muttered an apology about the heel, and the others pulled air while their hands and legs kept working. Current turned the unfinished spread broadside; the two shell sculls corrected it before the return line could cut across a throat.

Black water began to circle beneath Dane.

Drowned slabs rolled away in a pattern he felt through their knocks against the pool floor. The return rope dipped toward a new draw.

Orsa struck near stone with her broken pole. "Round spindle rising under you. Dry center, red ribs. There’s a stair on its far side."

Marda said, "Man on the stair. Gray work clothes. Both forearms scarred."

Orsa said the name. "Torven."

Marda drew one breath. "His hands are on two red handles. He’s pulling them apart."

Twin iron knocks traveled through the circling water.

Stone opened below Dane with the long grind of a buried jaw. The undertide inhaled. His taut return rope bowed down toward the drowned mouth.