The left-hand road ran downward for a long while, and the fifteen sets of tracks stayed fresh ahead of them the whole way.
The Vault changed again as they descended. The blue haze thinned, and the walls opened into a hall of enormous crystal growths, pale columns of glassy stone rising from floor to unseen ceiling, each one humming faintly with its own low note.
The family moved between them in tight order, and the crystals threw their reflections back a hundred times over, eleven armored figures multiplied into an army of ghosts.
"I hate this room," Nira muttered. "If anything attacks us in here, I am going to be fighting six wrong versions of it before I find the real one."
"Then listen instead of looking," Lily said quietly. "The reflections do not make sound."
It was good advice, and it was how they heard the fighting.
