the keeper at salt creek counted the silence differently. fourteen cycles, not eleven. "nine didn't freeze," he said, not looking up from the receiver. "it shifted. i can still hear it if i tune low enough. below what the relays carry." kef stood in the doorway. "how low?" "below resonance." he adjusted a dial. she felt something — not in her teeth this time, but deeper. sternum. a slow pulse like a second heartbeat. "that's not silence," she said. "no. the frozen ground isn't dead. it's just not talking to us anymore."