More and more footfalls clattered against her ears as they sped along. Her guide increased his pace, and his whistling grew higher and louder, until it sounded almost like a wail. They passed dozens of travelers. With a jerk left and another almost immediately after, they changed directions. The babble of voices grew. For the first time Anilitak understood that she moved through a city of sorts. After her long trek in relative solitude, with only a handful of companions, the unseen crowds intimidated her. She wondered who they were, what they wanted, and what they would do to her.

She would have no trouble keeping quiet. The constant rush of questions and confusion left her speechless.

Another pair of turns disoriented her, and after a short distance, she ran into her guide’s back. They both nearly collapsed, but he managed to steady himself and her, letting out a burst of quick chirps. Several of the footsteps around them fell silent. “Sorry,” he whispered. “You really don’t know the ways, do you? We’ve got to enter the center of the the Knot. Hold my hand. It’ll just take a moment to open it….”

His hand was warm, his fingers and palm calloused. She gripped it tight. If the tether had been gravity, this was as good as sunlight.

A shuffle of wood against wood, like numbers being added on an abacus, preceded a deep, hollow snap. The hand pulled her forward. Something moved on creaked hinges, opened and closed again. “Where are we?” she asked quietly.

But he led her forward. She could discover no ropes about her. He continued steadily, if less certainly than before. “Ah…,” he muttered. Suddenly, a colossal boom of golden sound penetrated every sense. Her head rung. The reverberations buzzed through her, becoming almost a new sensation, something between sight, sound, and touch. Absolute stillness followed.

“Wha—?”

“The Summoning Chime. Everyone in the area will be here soon. As for your other question, we’re in Rodion’s Knot. The central hub of passages surrounds us, with guide lines leading to rings—miniature hubs—and…never mind. They’ll assemble outside the perimeter, and I’ll speak from here. Remember, keep quiet.”

Voices and whistles and resounding footfalls converged toward them, hovering around and over them like a watching spirits. Something seemed to separate these others from Anilitak and her guide, a distance or a barrier. She did not try to imagine exactly what she had entered; images gave little aid in this den of vibrations and stolen touches.

Individual voices rose above the others, demanding. “Who called us? What right have you to interrupt our business? Is this a joke? Speak, if you summoned us!”

“I summoned you,” he guide said. This did not quiet the others but caused them to speak louder.

“It’s the Flit,” said one. “It’s the One Who Hears Ghosts,” said another. Still others cried out, identifying the Guide, each giving his own name to the one who would give Anilitak none.

The Guide shouted over them. “There’s been another murder.”

“Where?” more than a dozen asked, their voices cascading over one another.

“Beyond Albanos, along the fourth, then the third.”

“That’s a deserted path,” declared one. “Did you meet him and kill him?”

“No!” the Guide answered. “Go and retrieve him. You’ll find the same injuries as before.”

“Lies!” shouted one. “We must hide!” said another. Declarations of disbelief and fear intermingled.

“I have made known the murder,” the Guide said. “Go home and lock your doors. The killer will pass and hurt no one else.”

“An inquiry must be made!” demanded two or three. “We must find this murderer!” Others answered with equal vigor.

“It always goes this way,” the Guide whispered to Anilitak. “They’ll protest longer, but most will return home now, and tomorrow they’ll rage and suspect even their neighbors. Our job is done. We’ll wait and exit when they’ve dispersed.”