Morning slid in the same way as always. The blue glow woke a little. The lamp held. The fountain kept its small voice. Pebble checked the coins, tap… tap… tap… then a pleased click when every stack sat neat.
Thyra's dot brightened.
"Prepare," Thyra wrote.
"For what," I asked.
"Crowd."
I wiped the counter and looked at the line on the floor. Clear and bright. The sign said OPEN. The cupboard key hung where my hand would find it without looking.
"If a crowd is coming," I said, "we should pack quick help."
The hatch clicked. A crate eased through. Inside were bandage rolls, small flasks, dried fruit, hard bread, a strip of cloth for a sling, a chalk stick, two candles, a small tin of oil, and a thin blanket folded tight.
Pebble watched while I packed the first bundle, patting each piece like a tiny stamp of approval.
I wrote a simple line on the board.
Emergency bundle, one medium coin.
The first footsteps arrived before I finished the second bundle. Two scouts, dust on their sleeves, eyes sharp.
"News," I asked.
"Something moves below," one said. "Not here yet… close."
They bought bundles and flavor cups, drank fast, and left with the careful walk of people who listen to floors.
The guard in the brown tabard came next. He stopped on the ring and hung a small slate by the door.
"Notice," he said. "Keep the line clear. No fights. Be ready."
"Two bundles per team," I said.
"Good rule," he said, and left.
Rook jogged in, rope across his chest, grin quick and tired. His eyes went to the bundles at once.
"You read the day," he said.
"Want a job," I asked. "Point and pour water. Keep the door from clogging."
"I can do that," he said.
He took a spot by the bench and used his hands like signs. "Drink first… then pay… then move." People listened. Pebble clicked, proud.
The hall began to fill. Miners with dust in their hair. Hunters with the quiet eyes of people who have counted exits. The twins, a little older today, bought one candle and held it like a promise. The seamstress returned for thread and a bundle. A man in a long coat tried to look calm and failed, then bought a needle, a bundle, and a lantern to share.
Tella came with her party. Small cuts. Calm breath.
"You kept the door open," she said.
"That is the job," I said.
She took two bundles and a rope for the shield bearer. A tin of oil. One flavor stone. Her hand rested on the counter for a heartbeat.
"If we do not come back today," she said, "keep it open tomorrow."
"I will," I said. "There is a sling strip inside."
She nodded and moved on.
The hatch clicked again. More stock. Pebble worked beside me, paws quick, packing fruit and bread and bandage in a neat rhythm. Rook kept the flow steady. One group tried to push in. He held up a palm.
"One at a time," he said, with a voice that was not loud, only certain. They waited.
The lizard slipped in, stripe down its back, pouch at its neck. It tapped the ring twice, then came to the counter and set down two pink crystals and a small coin.
"Salt," I said.
Its tongue flicked. I poured a measure. It pressed its cheek to the bag like a cat to a hand, then lifted its head and held still. A long breath. It set a third crystal on the wood, a gift. Pebble watched with wide eyes. Thyra wrote a small, warm word.
"Friend."
The lizard left in a ripple of scales. The crowd flowed on. Four bundles went to a team that did not speak. A boy ran in, drank, and ran out again, all thank you with no words.
Near midday the crooked smile reached the doorway and stopped. He did not cross.
"Busy," he said.
"Steady," I said.
"Two bundles," he said.
"Two per team," I said. "Where is yours."
"They will meet me later."
"Then buy one now," I said. "Bring the other later."
His mouth smiled. His eyes stayed flat. He paid with a bright coin. Pebble patted it, satisfied. He lifted a bundle like it weighed less than it did and backed away.
"You keep your line clean," he said.
"I do," I said.
The tremor came in the afternoon. Not a jolt. A long slow pull that made the lamp sway and the coins hum. The ring of pale stones woke in a thin light. The air felt like a chest holding tight around a heart.
"Sit," I told the ones inside. "Drink. Breathe."
They did. Pebble made the low drum sound. Rook stood at the door with his palm raised.
"Wait," he said, and the people outside… waited.
The pull eased. The lamp steadied. The ring dimmed.
"Soon," Thyra wrote.
"How soon," I asked.
"Near."
I packed two more bundles. I put the black marked kit on the shelf under the counter where my hand would find it in one move. I smoothed the salt ring with the side of my palm.
A bard with copper beads in his hair came in for a cup, a bundle, a lantern. He looked at the door and smiled like a song was standing there, then kept the song to himself.
Rook drank water, wiped his mouth with his wrist, and came back to his spot. "We can handle it," he said.
"We can," I said.
When the light should have softened, it did not. The hall held bright a little longer, as if it did not plan to sleep. I counted the day in quick stacks. Pebble tapped each one flat. Thyra wrote the rent. I paid it. The hatch glowed a thin, patient line.
I checked the line on the floor. Clear. I checked the salt. Smooth. I checked the sign. It still said OPEN.
"Anything else," I asked.
"Ready," Thyra wrote.
I set one bundle where my hand could reach without looking. I put another under the counter. The broom leaned where it was easy to take. The benches were clean. The doorway was clear.
Pebble curled by the coin drawer, eyes open. Rook sat on the bench, hands on his knees, ready to stand. The fountain kept its small voice. The blue glow waited.
We listened to the hall… and the hall breathed back.