Chapter 116: THE MISSING WINDOW

The collector’s carriage diagram lay beneath Tera’s palm, its corners curling in the damp air. She had copied it before Angle passed the original papers to Mara’s vetted outer handoff. One detail on the copy kept pulling Sio’s attention: a narrow rectangle beside the rear compartment, several paces from the flooded three-groove door.

"An inspection shutter," Tera said, angling the page toward the light. "Guards could look inside without opening the compartment."

"Then why haven’t we seen it?" Sio asked.

"Because we’re looking at a wreck, not a carriage." She pointed toward the white panel, half-buried beneath dirt and folded plating. "If it’s there, it’s under that lip."

Angle returned from the upper path with his hands empty. "The originals are on their way to Mara. No one followed the handoff, but the northern washout’s still exposed."

They had not left it unwatched. One sentry guarded the captured square-heeled scout on the higher rocks; the second watched the washout where the gray-coated woman and her armed companion had fled. Iven kept the surrendered young carrier seated in a separate, visible position, away from the tools and drainage channel. Their wrists were bound, and Iven had strict instructions to call the sentry rather than attempt to restrain them himself.

"Any movement?" Sio asked.

"None on the northern approach," Angle said. "That’s all the lookout can promise."

Rhea led them to the carriage’s safe side, listening to the roof while she walked. The metal gave a brief ticking sound, then settled. She kept her bandaged hand against her coat as Caspian approached from the narrow gap where he had been talking to the six prisoners.

"They’re still answering," he said. "The injured woman’s leg is worse, but they’re keeping her off it. What did you find?"

Tera showed him the copied rectangle. Angle brushed loose dirt from the wall beneath the bent lip, revealing a line of bolts surrounding a shallow recess. The outline was barely wider than his hand.

"Looks like we stood beside it every day," Sio said.

"Under a layer of mud, with a damaged roof overhead," Tera replied. "We were right not to dig at random."

She checked the frame’s surrounding rivets, then cleared the recess a little at a time. The shutter was hinged to an intact section of sidewall, away from the roof’s visible fracture. Nothing shifted when she tested its lower edge. She eased it outward, stopping as stale air escaped through the slit.

An iron-lined viewing sleeve extended through the wall. Beyond it, a ragged curtain hung across the inner opening. Sio could see a bench leg and a wedge of floor, no more.

"Can you hear me?" Caspian called through the original gap. "We found a second opening. Is anyone near it?"

"Just me," a hoarse voice answered. "The guards used to look through that slot. The curtain’s torn."

"Don’t pull anything connected to the roof," Tera warned. "Can you move the loose cloth aside?"

A hand appeared through the slit and drew the curtain toward a sound bracket. Light entered from the far side, illuminating a section of the compartment Sio had never been able to see. He raised his lamp and crouched to the shutter’s level.

The opposite wall was farther away than he’d expected. He could make out a flat metal panel behind the rear bench, though a hanging restraint crossed its left edge. When he shifted his head, the sleeve framed another portion of the wall. He checked from each side and then from below, asking the spokesman to move the lamp until the full outline of a person-sized clear area emerged across the overlapping views.

"Is there anything fixed to that panel I can’t see?" Sio asked.

"Two broken hooks near the top. They’re outside the space you’re looking at," the spokesman said. "The bench doesn’t touch it."

"Have everyone move away from the wall. Leave the floor clear too."

The spokesman passed the instructions along. Through the shutter, Sio watched shapes retreat into the opposite corner. He checked the intended opening’s edges again, the bare floor directly before it and the distance to the nearest collapsed frame. He could see the entire placement area, not merely guess what lay behind the plating. It was the first time the wreck had given him a usable receiving surface.

Above them, the roof clicked again. Tera looked toward its bent support, then at the water still escaping from the lower seal. The pressure tests had not made the carriage stable, but they had shown a controlled outlet and given the six time while the team searched. The flooded door was still too dangerous to open.

"We don’t have unlimited time," she said. "If you’re certain of the landing space, make this quick. Nobody leans against that wall while they wait."

Rhea cleared an exterior landing area on solid rock, shielded from the northern approach by a broken foundation. Angle laid canvas over the worst gravel and stood ready to catch anyone stumbling out. Caspian told the prisoners to approach one at a time, with the injured woman last so two people could support her.

From the ridge, the lookout gave their agreed signal: no visible movement in the washout. Sio knew that wasn’t proof the collectors had gone; it was enough to proceed while they still had cover.

He set one portal against the clear exterior stone and its partner on the interior wall he’d inspected through the shutter. Gumm watched from his collar, stretching a small hand toward the light before Sio tucked it gently back.

A startled cry came from inside. The amber lamp wobbled across the floor as the prisoners saw the opening appear in what had been a solid wall.

"It’s me," Sio called. "Stay clear of the edges. You at the window, you’re first. Step through the middle."

A thin man with a swollen cheek approached, testing the floor before committing his weight. His boot emerged onto the canvas. Angle steadied him by the shoulder and guided him toward Rhea. "One," she called to Caspian, who kept his eyes on the portal.

The second prisoner, a woman holding her arm against her ribs, came out with her eyes fixed on the sky. Caspian caught her at the elbow and led her aside. An older man followed, breathing so harshly that he stopped after crossing; Angle helped him sit without blocking the next arrival.

"Three," Caspian said, looking back through the portal. "Take your time, but keep moving."

The fourth prisoner hesitated beside the bench, glancing toward the sealed three-groove door. "The guards said they’d open that when the water went down."

"They’re not opening anything for you," the spokesman said from outside. His voice steadied as he spoke. "Come through."

She stepped into the portal and emerged with both hands clenched against her chest. Rhea led her to the others while Caspian prepared space for the last two.

Inside, a younger man supported the injured woman’s shoulders as she tried to bring her swollen leg free of the bench. Her foot caught beneath a twisted brace, and she cried out.

"Stop pulling," Tera called. "Free the heel first."

The helper crouched, shifted the loose cloth beneath her ankle and lifted it clear of the brace without moving the metal. Angle stepped closer to the portal, ready to receive her. The helper emerged while keeping hold of her arms; Angle took her weight as her injured leg crossed the threshold. They lowered her onto the canvas, away from the gravel.

Sio checked the compartment through the opening. No one remained by the benches, under the lamp or beside the far partition. The spokesman confirmed the count from outside: six rescued from the white carriage, in addition to Dessa at the node.

He closed both portals. The remaining hiss beneath the three-groove door sounded strangely distant now. The water still threatened the wreck, but there was no one left in that compartment for it to trap.

"Don’t move them by the northern bank," Angle told the sentries. "We need the sheltered upper route and carrying support for two."

Tera carried a written request for medics toward the screened outer checkpoint, while Iven kept the surrendered carrier in view. The northern lookout signaled again: still no approach visible. Sio didn’t mistake silence for safety. He ordered the survivors gathered behind the foundation, where the collectors couldn’t see them from the washout without coming into the sentry’s line of sight.

Caspian offered the spokesman a canteen. "What’s your name?"

"Halden." The man took a careful drink, then looked toward the ridge. "The woman who came here in the gray coat. Did she leave?"

Sio turned. "You recognized her?"

"She was at the loading station, before the Arcline crashed." Halden rubbed the swelling on his cheek. "She checked our restraints herself. Counted us while the guards stood aside."

Angle came nearer, lowering his voice so the injured prisoners wouldn’t have to hear every word. "She was involved in the original transport?"

Halden nodded. "She said we’d be handed over at the next station. A guard asked where we were going afterward. She told him it wasn’t his concern."

"Did she give a name?" Sio asked.

"No. But I heard what the guards called her when they thought we were asleep." Halden looked at the ruined carriage, then back at Sio. "The Receiver."

Sio remembered the unsigned transfer order and the equipment meant to keep the outlet sealed. The woman hadn’t arrived after the crash to claim whoever happened to survive.

She had been responsible for delivering them before it happened.