Chapter 12 · The Face Behind the Bell

The bell didn't stop.

Mara hit the alley wall, ears screaming, and Rowan was already dragging her toward the harbor stairs. The sound wasn't just noise anymore. It was pressure. It was breaking glass in every window on Saltgate Street and blood running from the nose of the guardsman who'd been closest to the tower.

"Move!" Rowan shouted, and she hated that he was faster, hated that his hand on her wrist felt like the only solid thing left in the world.

The sea wall shuddered. Something massive hit it again, and this time the crack ran all the way up the north corner. Water sprayed over the top in a black sheet.

"Mara!" Pip was sprinting behind them, his coat flapping, tools rattling in his pack. "The bell's got a anchor point. Has to. You don't ring something that big without a—"

"I know." She yanked free from Rowan and spun on Pip. "Where."

"Tower. Top floor. I saw the glyph layout when I was fixing the damn thing last summer."

Rowan was already moving. "Then we go up."

"No." Mara grabbed his collar and slammed him back against the stone.