Chapter 99
The crew and the Unwound around a table made from a gear-tooth, a chalk drawing of the Marka in the middle.
which the Unwound dragged down into the gaps on a sledge:
AT THE NINTH HOUR OF THE NINTH DAY, THE MARKA SINKS.
tapping the brass with one long finger.
slowly getting it.
grinning under his tusks, looking at Vigolas.
splinted knee up on a crate, eyes widening.
catching up. His mask turns from Vigolas to Trollmage.
staring at them as if they were gods.
quietly, to Vigolas.
looking out through a gap at the harbour, where the Marka sits chained by Timekeepers, the Kettle's bell gleaming at her bow.
arms folded.
Night, the harbour. The crew sneaks onto the chained Marka to rehearse. Drekk with a bucket, Vigolas on a crutch at the bow, Smurjan counting seconds with the third eye. Timekeepers pour onto the dock, Sekund at their head, watches on every finger.
The batons fly. TICK: Drekk frozen mid-step with the bucket. TICK: Vigolas's raised hand frozen mid-COMPACT. TICK: Smurjan frozen mid-count. One second each, and in each second, a Timekeeper is somewhere he shouldn't be.
unfreezing, third eye blazing.
The crew fights off-beat: Kali's sickle lands half a tick late, slipping under a baton; Rougeina Swaps on the tock, not the tick; Mingus barks wildly off-rhythm and three Timekeepers swing at nothing.
Kompis, Subtick, finds the gap between beats and fires Lilla Ulv. The wolf-cub bullet ricochets in the half-second where no Timekeeper is scheduled to move, and bonks Sekund's six watches off his fingers, one-two-three-four-five-six.
staring at his bare, unwatched hands, horrified.
The Timekeepers stagger, out of rhythm, colliding, and retreat in disorder off the dock. The crew stands panting on the Marka.
lifting the bucket.
Moonlit harbour, brass sun asleep on its arm. The Marka at the dock, and the whole crew in position like a stage crew before a show:
Vigolas at the bow on a crutch, one hand raised toward his own ship, green light sparking at his fingertips.
Drekk on the dock below the bow, holding a bucket of seawater in both hands, counting.
Smurjan on a bollard, third eye open, counting the exact second.
Rougeina on the mast, lookout. Kali and the Unwound children on the rooftops, ready.
Kompis with Mingus, Lilla Ulv drawn, watching the Timekeepers' towers.
Trollmage, lying flat on the dock, banking heartbeats with his eyes closed.
Above them the great Clocktower's dial gleams. Its hands point to day seven.
practising: his hand curls almost closed, green light gathering, then he stops himself.
eyes closed.
from far below, at night. One window lit, high up.
dim. Otur alone on her brass throne, gown ticking softly. The bridge is still fallen; the gears on the walls are still turning. She sits perfectly upright.
opening a brass pocket watch. On its face, under the glass, there is only one hour marked, engraved deep: IX. The hour hand creeps toward it.
clock-hands sweeping in her eyes. For the first time, the tiny hands tremble. Her other hand finds the closed music box on the throne's arm, and holds it.