The Second Bell Replies

The tide went out at the wrong hour, and the bell rang anyway.

Sui Lian had counted the bells of Marrow Harbour since she was six years old: the dawn bell, the market bell, the bell that called the salt-cutters back when the flats turned treacherous. Nine bells, in a fixed order, every day of her life. The tenth bell had no name because the tenth bell had never rung.

She was halfway down the causeway when she heard it. Not above her, from the tower, but below, muffled and patient, somewhere under the crust of white where the old harbour had been before the sea decided otherwise. It rang once. Then it waited, the way a person waits, and rang again.

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