Svenna was in charge of serving tea to certain high-performing members of the Court of Chimes who gathered occasionally in the Mystress of the Chimes’s den. These were coveted invitations. She would serve the special smoked Gilraan tea that supposedly was reserved exclusively for the highest-ranking members of the Gilraan.

“Just a taste. And kindly don’t mention it outside my receiving den.” The Mystress of the Chimes’s eyes would glitter as she said this. Svenna saw right through it. It created a sense, albeit a false sense, of intimacy. If the guests had any secrets, he or she might disclose them at this point.

The Grand Patek had become obsessed with the possibility of spies both within the Ice Cap and without. There were rumors of infiltrators from across the Nunquivik sea who had arrived to undermine the Timekeepers. Inside the Ice Clock gossip of snitches, betrayers, and double agents swirled like snow fleas in the Dying Ice Moons.

A paranoid atmosphere was developing. Certain corridors were closed off. Every bear lived in a state of fear. Yet in some ways this condition made Svenna more fearless. She began to plot her own escape.

She went through the panel to the tunnel more frequently, as she was still haunted by the mysterious sound. At first, it’d sounded like the trickle of meltwater, but it’d grown into a low growling. There were four or five places where the sound was more perceptible. She had begun to make a mental map of these spots and tried to figure out the meaning. She reviewed in her head what she knew of the Ublunkyn. It was basically rock sheathed in ice. Now, if the ice began to melt, one might hear the trickle or the flow. Was that growling part of the flow, the movement of the water? And if so, where was it flowing? Into a kind of bungvik? If it was being collected in one of these subterranean reservoirs, it was frightening to think of the power it could unleash.

She thought of her daughter, whose ice-gazing abilities had become obvious by the time she was two moons old. What would an ice gazer make of these strange walls?

Perhaps there were other quirks or oddities in the ice through which she could escape. Every entrance to the clock was guarded. But could she swim out through some submarine portal? The seals used these for their work and yet they had never escaped. However, she suspected they were tethered when they dived. But then she thought of that perplexing noise. Might she drown if she accidentally swam into a bungvik? Nevertheless, she refused to give up hope. There were more pathways and passages to explore. Ghylls—the old Krakish word came back to her—that was the name for secret passages in the Northern Kingdoms.

So it was with the notion of finding more ghylls that Svenna set out shortly after she had served tea in the Court of Chimes. The Mystress of the Chimes had told her that she would be working very intensely in the court on that day and well into the evening going over some new pendulum-arc equations. “I think we are close to a breakthrough!” she announced gaily.

This was perfect. Ever since Svenna had decided to look for ice oddities, especially the ones that might lead to a submerged portal, she had just been waiting for enough time. Now she would have that time—at least ten hours, fifty-three minutes … Oh, don’t do this, Svenna! a voice in her head rebelled. Think like a bear, not a clock!