Chapter 160: The Inn Comes Walking

The ash came off the road in one sheet.

Weight struck north of the bend. The blow reached Dane through his wheel, the loose iron ring, and the supports under his wounded right quarter. Salt jumped around the flat burned root.

Harl tried to get his good boot beneath him. Ada caught his wrist and planted his hand over the blood running from his shin. "Hold that shut. You stand, it opens farther."

He pressed. "The road just dropped under me."

Istra’s six contacts stopped around the spring. For one landing she gave no order.

The next impact came closer.

"Leave the burn and get off its road," she said.

People moved before the last word cleared. Lye took Harl behind the arms. One heel scraped; the other boot dragged a dark line through wet salt.

The coffer’s feet scattered across three rhythms as Buk’s litter tipped toward the fall.

Hest backed with the rake across her body, swollen left hand still closed around the shaft. Marda caught the far end with her guide, working from the left hip while her wrapped right palm stayed against her chest.

"Up beside the water," Vera began.

Stone burst above the spring.

The fall slapped sideways. Water and stone chips crossed Dane’s front wheels. A new high-side load entered his sound wheel and smothered the smaller knocks beneath it.

Vera’s breath snagged. "Don’t climb; it put a foot there."

The planted weight ground once. Mineral broke under it in a slow line, taking the shoulder Vera had chosen and half the spring lip with it.

Orsa pulled the coffer line across Dane’s left front. Her straight knee struck stone and stayed straight; she turned around it rather than wait for the joint.

"Bring Dorrin through and leave the ring."

The dead iron ring rolled into the running water. Nobody reached for it.

Dane drove his front ferrule over the broken lip. His late wheel dropped hard a breath after the others, opening pain along the same right split. The angled support caught before the half-angle.

Behind him, the first enormous weight had not lifted.

A third struck beyond the spring.

"They’re separate; the first two are still down," Harl said from somewhere low.

Ada’s palm made a wet sound against his leg. "So are you; stop trying to stand."

Vera moved against Dane’s sound side, boots skidding in the new water. "There’s a roof above the ridge. It’s still rising."

Another landing broke her view with a crack that pushed air through Dane’s bands. The line at his front snapped tight, then slack as Orsa changed direction.

Vera shouted over the crack, "The wall under it is coming over us. Keep low."

Istra’s contacts missed a whole beat together. Then all six hit stone, her left three landing ragged enough to throw salt into Dane’s outer grain.

"No frames," she said. "Whatever opens, stay below it."

The wall passed overhead, driving down old lamp smoke, damp bedding, and cooked onions. His body opened the seam between his front bands by a finger.

Harl’s blood was closer.

Dorrin coughed against somebody’s shoulder. Six small rhythms knocked inside the coffer while its feet searched broken ground. Every easier meal was down here with Dane.

He ground his mouth seam shut and rolled after the line.

Above them, shutters hit wood in an uneven run and cut off the lodging air. The planted load to Dane’s high side eased; the shutters flew open, and released warmth pushed against his bands.

Vera pulled the line. "The next foot is dropping where we are."

The first four weights remained when four more struck across and behind them. Each held a separate path through the road into Dane’s wheel.

Harl tried to count under his breath. The fifth number disappeared in a grunt when Lye changed his grip.

"Eight are down; there’ll be room when the near one lifts," Harl said.

Its planted weight ground deeper.

Furniture scraped overhead and struck the wall hard enough to shake dust down.

Dorrin coughed. "That floor is tipping."

The weight inside shifted once more. The roof load followed it.

"Left—" Vera called.

Joined timbers groaned above Dane. The wind changed against his right band.

"Back now; the whole side turned."

Orsa’s line reversed. Dane locked the sound wheel while the others pulled his nose around it; the late wheel dragged sideways, tightening the old split until its upper band grew hot.

Marda’s guide struck the road behind him. Hest made a sound through her teeth as the rake pulled her fixed arm toward the turning wall.

"Too high," Hest said.

Marda stamped the guide lower. The two tools knocked once, slid together, and came free before the overhead timber reached their space.

Roof dust washed over Dane. Tiles struck somewhere past his left side and broke down the slope.

A fresh load entered the timbers overhead. When they bowed, the next roof answered through the same deep structure with nails dragging against beams.

Vera pulled left. "That roof is taking the next one with it. Keep moving."

The road flexed again. A ninth planted weight closed behind Hest and Marda.

Harl’s hands left his shin for the line. Ada slapped them back into the blood. "You have one wound to hold. Stop helping."

He reached again. "Then keep us off the downhill."

Bitter resin and wet charcoal reached Dane before the next impact.

Istra’s contacts scraped to a halt.

"The burned station is under the rear roofs. Something still has it."

All nine planted weights drew north together.

Black-gold joins snapped above the ridge, deep as breaking timber. One part caught while the planted weights ahead continued north, twisting the roof load until loose furniture struck the low wall again.

Istra drove her front contacts sideways. "Out from under the seam. Now."

The charred housing tore free.

It hit the road ahead as one mass and broke on the slope. A roof edge plowed through salt. Its first collision knocked the coffer line from Orsa’s hand. Six feet beat at once; Buk shouted something that vanished beneath the cracking boards.

Vera caught the line. "Dane, the door is coming upright on your right."

Wood struck stone and rolled.

"It’s rolling flat against you, low!"

Dane dragged his nose uphill. The ferrule bit rock. His late wheel refused the turn until the door hit his angled support.

The impact drove the wheel to its old limit.

His right split flared from corner to band as the dead front-left rail lifted. A wedge chattered beneath him and stayed seated.

The fallen door had no living grain. Its latch bounced against his front board without lifting. Dane drove into it before the slope could turn it over him.

Warm blood moved close to his mouth. Harl had been dragged beside the line, breathing through his teeth. Hunger opened Dane’s tongue against the back of his bands and offered one pull that would bring the injured man behind the braced door with him.

Dane shut the tongue under his lockplate.

Ada’s voice broke. "Get Harl past and keep your hand there, damn you."

Harl’s breath hitched. "That’s yours. Mine has the line."

Harl’s weight left the stone by Dane. Lye’s long right step struck beyond him, followed by Harl’s good heel.

The coffer crossed in a scrape of six feet and one hard knock from inside. Dorrin coughed downslope. A line fell from Brant’s bound arms, and Orsa caught it against her side.

Kril snarled when a strap touched his raw shoulder and shoved it away with his sound hand.

Behind Dane, Hest’s rake caught in dead timber.

Her fixed left arm pulled straight until the shoulder clicked inward. Marda drove the shortened guide beneath the shaft, but the first angle raised it into the snag.

"Under it," Hest gasped.

Marda shifted her left foot without answering. The guide struck lower. Dead wood split, and Hest stumbled free with the rake still in her hand.

Vera hit Dane’s left band once. The last nearby pulses had cleared the door’s downhill edge.

He released his front load.

The door slid across his ferrule, tore splinters from itself, and joined the dead housing below.

Dane’s late wheel returned slowly. The right split stayed within its old torn line.

Two more supports landed beyond the ridge. The last came after them, farther north than Harl’s count had allowed. It broke salt with a long crush and lifted the ninth weight from behind the group.

"Twelve," Harl said. There was no satisfaction in it.

The walking loads thinned beyond the rise. Shutters beat once above the road, followed by furniture crossing a floor and receding with the roofs.

Vera stood close enough that Dane heard dust between her breaths.

"The torn place is open," she said. "I can see through the ribs."

Another leg landed north.

The deep structure flexed.

"Still open."

At the spring, water turned the dead ring while the ash stayed flat through the departing weight.

Metal shifted behind Dane’s right wall.

The flat brass charm struck Saint Rust’s knife, still one handspan across its little stamped roof.

The first note rang bright. Iron caught the second and dragged it lower.

Saint Rust pressed his vessel against the brass without sliding it. "No key reached this. The brass began the strike."

Northbound weight faded through the road.

Three breaths later, with the open wound in the walking roofs still moving away, brass struck iron twice again.