The counting slate clicked again.
Heat moved through Dane’s brass tag. Beyond the third-gate lip, cut boxes waited to accept a wound, a restraint, or a feed.
Beyond it, six sets of boots shifted while low chains shut the drain one iron line at a time and three wet ropes climbed the calcified shell on Dane’s left.
Behind Ash Company, bounty workers argued over shares and edged closer to the choke.
"Return the asset," Skarn said. "Outer witnesses leave with warning fees. The cleric keeps his license. The mage keeps her burned hand. Knife-girl keeps most of the arm if she stops adding value."
Tess braced the collector cord at her waist, split right palm on the knot and wrapped left forearm off the pull. "You open with amputation. I see why they put you underground."
Skarn’s pole struck stone once. "Runners cost less than seals."
Vera’s wand ground fresh chalk along Dane’s left while her burned right fist kept rod two seated at his ruined hinge. "You brought six bodies and no seizure seal. Call it a bargain again."
Ada held rod three against the ring; rod one remained cinched to Dane’s tag. "Keep the chalk alive. His offer has teeth but no title."
The pole struck twice.
A net hit Tess’s cord.
She turned her waist into the pull before the mesh stripped her palm. Knots tightened along the line, carrying tally-wax heat toward Dane’s lockplate.
Dane rolled both free coppers right. His wounded tongue pinned them against his inner wall while he drove the raw left corner into the floor.
Crude Drag bought a thumb’s width with skin from his underside.
The net kept coming.
Brant forced the borrowed shield deeper under Dane’s left. Three cuts across his right knuckles opened against the rim, making the metal slip. His splinted left arm stayed crushed to his ribs.
"Catch the shield," he said. "Small bite. Then another."
With Tess hauling from her belt, Dane caught the edge with his corner. One scrape changed the pull, another widened the scout’s groove, and a third gave her enough slack to reach the mesh.
Metal slid from beneath Tess’s sleeve and sawed through one strand. On release, the cord whipped across her wrapped left forearm and opened the old line; wet cloth struck Dane’s side before the blood smell reached him.
Metal scratched across Skarn’s slate.
Wax heat caught Tess’s reopened wound through Dane’s tag. Her belt jerked toward the lip.
A runner followed the low net. His chain hit Brant’s shield, then boots pounded into Holt’s reach.
Prayer cord snapped around an ankle. Pale heat crossed the stone through Dane’s base. The runner’s own chain trapped his arms as his feet left the floor.
His chin hit first.
Teeth struck stone and scattered against Dane’s rim. The second impact made a wet crack under the man’s mouth. He stopped shouting and started dragging breath through blood.
Holt’s prayer line went slack.
"His jaw," the priest said. He sounded sick. "I only took the ankle."
"Keep him breathing," Brant said.
Holt freed the light from the ankle, rolled the man by his trapped chain, and listened until the ruined mouth kept drawing air. He recovered the prayer cord; the cracked sword remained secured at his belt.
Skarn marked the slate instead of helping, and its pull bit into Dane’s ownership nails. Five active chains held tension while Tess’s arm, Brant’s hand, and Dane’s hinge worsened for them.
Ada corrected the sagging ring with rod three. "He marked Holt’s restraint as damage. Another wound tightens the tag."
"Last clean terms," Skarn said. "Leave the box. Carry your wounded. The jaw stays my expense. The next body becomes yours."
Brant’s shield trembled under Dane.
"Set him down," he said.
Holt’s breathing stopped for a beat. Tess’s belt creaked under the net.
Brant kept his right forearm behind the shield because his fingers were losing it. "Skarn won’t kill what he came to collect. Tess has two bad hands. I have one arm and half a grip. The lip is higher than Dane’s crawl. Set him down and we can take the living through."
Dane let his weight shift toward Skarn.
The tag welcomed him. A locked room would put Vera beyond reach. Hunger approved so quickly that shame followed.
"Dane, stop helping the wrong side," Vera said.
"He’s trying to get us out," Brant answered.
Rod two jumped in Vera’s burned hand. She jammed it back against Dane’s hinge before the ring could twist. "Skarn’s ticket said speaking if possible. He wants Dane in a room before the choices turn into words."
"Words won’t put an arm back," Brant said.
Holt kept his cord away from Dane’s mouth. "And if the next sleeve has an arm inside it?"
The five chains pulled together. Brant’s shield slipped. Vera grunted as rod two tore at her split knuckle.
"I don’t have a clean answer," she said. "I still won’t hand him over."
Knife teeth touched the remaining net strand, then stopped. "I brought the rope that taught Skarn where to pull. I’m staying on it through the gate."
Brant spent one breath swearing. Then he shifted his forearm lower behind the shield. "Pull when I shove. Holt, leave the fallen one room to breathe."
The next hooks ended the debate.
Vera’s wand cracked across their path. Ward heat followed one rope into the scout’s mouth, and its impact shook the chalk line. Two rings bounced across the floor with several wet teeth.
The scout’s next laugh gurgled. Its three hooks came on different beats now, one dragging late.
Five runners attacked behind them.
A net crashed onto Brant’s shield and drove the rim into Dane’s torn hinge. The loose pin shifted deeper. Mimic blood flooded Dane’s mouth. A chain caught the shield, forcing Brant’s cut knuckles to close on the strap until all three wounds split again.
Holt looped his prayer cord through the back of Tess’s belt and yanked her away from a low hook. The barb missed her belly but tore the bandage from her left arm. The same shallow cut opened wider. Her knife rang once; split-palm pain flared as she caught the hilt and shoved it beneath her sleeve.
Ada struck rod three against the wall. The ring turned Vera’s chalk into a hard corner, sending one net across the stone instead of Dane’s mouth. Rod one held at the tag. Vera’s burned right hand kept rod two from climbing out of the hinge wound.
Boots entered the gap inside Brant’s shield and drove toward Tess.
Dane moved before Brant found an angle for him.
His raw left corner caught stone. Both coppers rolled right, and his tongue trapped them there. Crude Drag peeled him forward while shield and collector cord kept the rest of his weight from turning.
His front rim struck the runner below the knee.
The joint failed sideways against Dane’s wood. The body crossed his lid, hit the wall, and jarred the floor. The runner screamed, tried to stand, and fell when the ruined leg refused his weight.
Sweat and fresh blood filled Dane’s mouth range. A pulse hammered close to the gap between his teeth. His lid opened a finger’s width before choice arrived.
The counting slate heated through his tag, eager to record a feed.
"Dane Rook," Vera said. "Cloth. Leave the pulse."
A sleeve crossed his lower teeth, and he closed. Fabric tore while living skin stayed outside. Broken-root pain held the bite shut as the runner dragged one-legged against the wall.
Brant drove his boot into the man’s sound leg and shoved him out with the shield. The wounded runner struck Skarn’s pole, coughed, and kept breathing. Nearby, the first casualty answered with a thick groan through his damaged mouth.
Wax surged toward Dane’s teeth, found cloth instead of flesh, and recoiled through his tag. The slate clacked against the third-gate iron. Old seals inside the arch answered with a row of metallic knocks.
"Refusal increases inspection cost," Skarn said.
Four chains scraped outward. One runner breathed through a broken jaw; the other’s ruined knee folded under every attempt to rise. The four standing bodies closed the route while the scout dragged its late hook into line.
Brant shoved. Tess pulled from the waist. Dane gathered his coppers and scraped. Holt kept prayer cord clear and cracked sword tight at his belt while Vera walked rod two along the hinge.
They stole three ragged feet and reached the lip.
Dane bit his left corner into the rise until stone met halfway up his front panel. Crude Drag gave no height. Brant lifted on the shield while Tess pulled opposite, twisting Dane’s lockplate toward damaged chalk and grinding rod two in living wood.
"Down," Ada said. "You lift again and the ring loses his hinge."
They lowered him one painful inch.
Rod three tested the lip while rod one pulled at the tag. "Shield stays left. Cord opposite. We need the right handle."
"That loop leads to his lock," Brant said. His wet hand reset on the shield strap. "The lock leads to teeth."
Vera’s wand stopped scratching chalk. In Dane’s right-handle bolts, pressure mapped the old carrier route: hand, wrist, leverage, tongue.
Dane drove broken-tooth pain back through the fittings. The handle tilted outward until rust and swollen wood stopped it.
"Hold it through three," Vera said. "Drop it if your mouth wins."
She counted.
Hunger hauled at one. The ownership tag joined it at two. At three, Dane still forced the loop away from his lockplate.
Brant felt the strain through shield and frame. "He can fight the route. He can’t remove it."
"I know."
Vera drove rod two deep into the lower-hinge groove with her burned right fist. Brant rolled the shield rim over its shaft until the rod held between metal, damaged wood, and the containment pull.
Ada struck rod three once. "Seated for one lift. Change the shield angle and it comes out."
Vera opened her right hand, slick with blood. Her left kept the wand across the chalk route.
Holt moved behind her with a free bight of prayer cord in both hands, the rest running to his belt beside the cracked sword.
"Your hand is open," he said. "Give me the back of your coat."
Vera fed him a fistful. "If the lid moves, pull."
The rear workers struck the choke. Four chain lines tightened ahead. One downed runner choked on blood; the other cursed whenever his knee touched stone. Above Dane’s left, the scout’s three hooks clicked out of time.
A sheath catch clicked under Tess’s sleeve, and her split palm closed over the waist knot. Brant lowered the shield on Dane’s left. Ada kept rod three against the ring; rod one stayed cinched at the tag, and the shield trapped rod two at the hinge.
Vera stepped to Dane’s right.
"One lift," she said. "You keep your mouth. I keep the iron."
Skarn’s pole chain snapped taut. "Touch the asset and the slate takes your hand as custody."
His hook left the pole, rope shrilling toward Tess’s cord.
Vera crossed the chalk. Her burned right fingers closed around Dane’s handle, and every bolt between her hand and his broken tooth pulled tight.