The Second Answer

The basin was quieter than the twin spires, though the living course made the stones hum under Orra’s boots. The *Morrowfin* held beyond the cleft, sails slack, with Vey at the wheel and Brask at the main winch. Below, the six pillars rose around the basin like the ribs of a buried ship. Their route-lights were dim, but none had gone out completely.

Nima had set her astrolabe on a flat stone and was fitting its rings to the angles of the pillars. She had not spoken since they entered the cleft. Orra knew that look: she was trying to get the world to sit still long enough to measure it.

“Which one?” Orra asked.

Nima pointed to the far pillar, whose light thinned toward the cloudward side of the island. “That was the line from the twin spires. The same bearing as the branch we tested.”

“Was,” Orra said. “Before we know it’s still there.”

“Fair.” Nima adjusted the astrolabe. “I can compare the pattern without touching the route. If the basin still holds a trace of the last activation, it may show how the signal passed through the network.”

“May.”

“I did not bring a more comforting word.”

Orra glanced at the basin’s central groove. The living course ran there in a pale ribbon, steady as a held breath. It had carried the *Morrowfin* here without draining the lift crystals, but the ship had still shuddered when the current passed close. She had no desire to turn a comparison into another uncontrolled pull.

“We keep the ship outside the cleft,” she said. “No fresh route activation. We take a reading from what’s already lit.”

Nima nodded. “That should be enough.”

“Should.”

“Orra.”

It was not a complaint. Nima had heard the caution in her own answer and didn’t need it repeated.

Brask leaned over the winch rail. “If the stones decide to move, I’m hauling before anyone gets to argue about it.”

“Good,” Orra said. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I thought it was my charming company.”

“Not the main reason.”

Vey kept his eyes on the ship’s lift gauge. “Start when you’re ready. If the current pulls, we leave.”

Orra unclipped the keel-instrument from her belt. Its brass point was cool, and it had stopped quivering since the last test. She held it above the basin’s central groove without letting it touch.

Nima turned the astrolabe’s upper ring. The glass face showed a faint drift of light, sliding toward the cloudward pillar. Then the first of the six route-lights stirred. It didn’t brighten so much as gather itself, a thin line drawing taut along the stone.