Morning tried to arrive. The blue glow did not want to soften, but it did, a little. The lamp held. The fountain kept its small voice. Pebble sat by the coin drawer like a little guard who had not slept. Its eyes blinked slow.
Rook rubbed his face with both hands and stretched his back. "Do we close," he asked.
"Not yet," I said. "We tidy first."
We put the benches back where they belonged. We folded two blankets and tucked them under the counter. I wiped the counter with a clean cloth and spaced the lanterns so no glass touched glass. Pebble tapped every coin stack flat. The shop began to look like itself again.
The guard in the brown tabard stood on the ring of pale stones. He checked the chalk board, then the salt line at the door, then the floor. He tapped one stone with the edge of his boot, listening to the sound it gave back.
"You kept order," he said.
"People helped," I said.
He nodded. "Keep the bundles. There may be more today."
He turned to go. Then he paused and looked at the line again. "Listen for strange sounds," he said. "Not a roar. A knock."
He left without buying. I watched the doorway and thought about the word he used.
Knock.
Pebble made a soft click and looked at me. Thyra's dot drifted down and brightened.
"Ready," Thyra wrote.
"For what," I asked.
"Push."
I set three emergency bundles where my hand could reach without looking. I checked the salt ring and smoothed it with my palm. I poured water for myself and for Rook. We drank and breathed slow.
The first customers of the morning came in quiet. A pair of miners. They bought oil and a bandage. They sat for one minute, drank, and left with slow, steady steps. A boy arrived with a note from his grandmother. It said only, thank you for the cup. He brought back the empty and set a small glow coin on the counter. It looked like it had saved up for this moment. I pushed the coin back to him and gave him a bread. He said a word that was mostly breath, then ran out again.
The shop went still.
Tap.
It came from the floor. Not under it, not beyond it. From the line itself. A small touch, like a fingernail on glass. Once. Then nothing.
Rook turned his head. Pebble lifted its face and grew round, then small again. I looked at the ring of pale stones and walked it in a slow half circle. The stones looked the same as always. They gave no light yet.
Tap… tap.
Two this time. A little to the left. The sound was not loud. It reached the skin first, then the ear. I put my hand near the stone without touching it. I felt a thin cold like a coin left in shade.
"Thyra," I said. "Do you hear it."
"Knock," Thyra wrote.
"From what," I asked.
"Test," Thyra wrote. "Listen."
I did. We all did. Rook stood on the bench and held his breath on purpose to make his ears stronger. Pebble stayed very still, only its eyes moving. The fountain made a tiny, kind sound that did not care about knocks.
The seamstress came in with a strap. She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it when she saw our faces. She waited. We waited too.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Three in a neat little row. Not hard. Not soft. Each touch in a different place on the ring, as if a finger walked around it. The sound stopped.
"All right," the seamstress whispered. "I do not like that."
"We are listening," I said. "Drink, if you want."
She drank with both hands on the cup. Her eyes did not leave the line.
A breath later the lizard came, quick and neat as always. It tapped the ring twice with one foot, then stood still and stared at the stones. Its throat moved in a small ripple. It did not come to the counter. It waited. The ring did not light. The lizard turned its head, very slow, as if it could see a sound. Its eyes were bright, then calm. It tapped the ring two more times, lighter. It looked at me, then left without a trade.
Tap.
The sound returned from the far right now. Just one. Then nothing.
Rook leaned close to the line and frowned. "It is not a foot," he said. "A foot is heavier."
"It is not a mouth," I said. "A mouth would scrape."
"Then a hand," he said.
"Or a thought," I said.
Pebble made the low drum sound under its breath, like a small storm thinking about itself. Thyra's dot dimmed, then brightened.
"Watch," Thyra wrote.
We watched. We sold thread to the seamstress and trimmed her strap while we kept one ear on the stones. We refilled the water cup twice. The seamstress left with softer shoulders, but she looked back at the ring once before the hall took her.
Tap. Tap.
Two quick touches at the doorway threshold, just inside the salt. They felt like questions. Pebble stepped forward and patted the line with one paw, very light. The sound stopped.
"Good," I said, though I did not know why that felt like the right word.
Rook set the benches at a small angle so people would not clog the door if the hall grew busy. He tied a cord from the hook to the first bench leg so it would not slide if a crowd pressed. He did the work with easy hands. The shop took the shape of a plan.
The twins arrived and held up a small cloth bag with pride. Inside was a smooth green stone with a pale line through it. "Shiny," the girl said. "For your floor."
"It is perfect," I said. I did not set it yet. I asked Thyra first with my eyes.
"Keep," Thyra wrote. "Soon."
They bought a candle and two cups and sat for one breath longer than they paid for. They smiled at Pebble. Pebble patted the green stone once, like a priest blessing a baby, then set its paw on a coin and held it there for luck.
Tap.
This time it came from the back of the ring, near the hatch. I walked there and stood with my hands behind me. I did not touch the stone. The sound did not repeat. I waited, then went back to the counter.
The crooked smile arrived just before midday. He stopped at the line and did not step over it. He looked at the benches, the bundles, the twins as they left, the seam on the salt ring. His eyes wrote a list.
"Busy night," he said.
"Steady," I said.
He took out a bright coin and turned it in his fingers so the light shifted over it. "I would like oil," he said. "And a blanket, if you have one that is not thin."
"Bundle," I said. "Blanket is inside."
He smiled with his mouth. "A fair deal," he said.
Pebble watched his hands like a cat watches a small bird. He set the coin on the wood. Pebble patted it once. Bright. Clean.
Tap.
The knock came again, at that exact breath, from the right edge of the ring. A single touch, neat and soft. The crooked smile did not look down. He watched my face to see how I would move. I did not look away from him. I packed his bundle with steady hands and set it on the counter.
"Be well," I said.
"I am always well," he said, and carried the bundle off the line, then turned to look at the stones. Only then did his eyes drop. He watched the ring for a slow count, then nodded to himself as if someone had answered a question he had not asked out loud. He touched the air where a hat would be and left.
The knocking stopped.
The room breathed out one breath together. Rook did not like that. He tilted his head. "Did it stop because he left," he asked.
"Or did it stop because he arrived," I said.
We both turned to Thyra. The dot drifted down, steady as a small star.
"Test," Thyra wrote.
"Whose," I asked.
"Not his," Thyra wrote. "Watch. Prepare."
I smoothed the salt line again. I set the green stone from the twins on the shelf near the price board. I did not place it in the ring yet. Pebble tracked my hand with its eyes and nodded, in its way.
Customers came and went in a slow flow. A mother bought thread and a cup. A man with a cut above his eye asked for balm and did not flinch when it stung. A miner bought two candles and set one down at the edge of the bench for strangers to use. The lizard returned once, fast, set a pink crystal on the counter without a coin, and left. Gift or message, I did not know. Pebble placed the crystal beside the green stone and patted both.
Tap… tap… tap.
Three little touches near the door, in a neat line. Then four on the left side, sloppy, as if the hand had never tapped before. Then two, low and slow, near the hatch again. The knocks felt like practice. Or like a map.
Rook took a stick of chalk and put the smallest marks on the floor where the taps had come. Not on the ring itself, on the stone just beside. A dot for each place. When he had drawn six, we both stood back and looked.
They made a shallow curve along the front, then a longer curve along the left. The last two sat like eyes near the back. It was a shape, but not a picture I knew.
"Do you see it," I asked.
"A path," he said. "A way around."
Pebble puffed up and made the low drum sound again, louder this time. The lamp did not sway. The fountain kept its voice. The air had a taste like cold metal for one thin second, then it passed.
The guard returned with two others and stood at the line. He looked at the chalk dots, then at me. "Is the knock still there," he asked.
"Yes," I said. "It comes and rests. It moved as if it learned."
He studied the ring and nodded. "I will borrow a blanket," he said, and took one for a woman who sat on the bench with her child. He gave me a bright coin, set it down where Pebble could pat it, then went back to the line and watched.
The afternoon grew. The hall did not sing the way it sometimes does. It waited. People came and went, but they did not talk much. The shop felt like a chest before a run. Breath held. Hands ready. Light steady.
Tap.
A single touch at the front. Then nothing for a long time. We went back to work. Pebble watched the doorway and only blinked now and then. Rook made two more bundles and set them under the counter.
When the light should have started to dim, it did not. It held a little longer, as if the hall did not want to sleep. The same as the night before. I counted the coins in small stacks and did not pay rent yet. I waited for Thyra's word.
"Thyra," I said. "What do you want us to do."
"Prepare," Thyra wrote. "Soon."
"How soon," I asked.
The dot drifted closer to the ring and hovered there. It waited. It wrote one word.
"Tonight."
Rook met my eyes, then looked at the bundles, the broom, the salt, the chalk, the green stone on the shelf, the pink crystal beside it, the guard at the line, Pebble at the drawer. He nodded like a man who has a list and has checked it twice.
"We will be steady," he said.
"We will," I said.
I took the black marked kit from the shelf under the counter and set it where my hand could find it without looking. I smoothed the salt ring one more time. I put one bundle on the counter and another under it. I lit one candle and set it near the price board, not for light, only for calm.
Tap… tap…
Two touches at the door. Not a question now. A hello.
Pebble clicked once and put its paw on the counter edge, as if it could feel a current there. The guard lifted his chin. The lamp hummed like a small bee. The fountain kept its soft voice.
We stood behind the counter and waited for the next sound.
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