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In Halfsun's bazaar, street drummer Tam busks under the half sun and hears a huge, slow beat under the world. Wardens walk into the market asking for hearers, and a girl in smoked goggles falls through an awning onto his drum.
Halfsun from high above: round stone towers with sundial domes, canals, rope bridges, market awnings. The sun sits exactly half over the sea horizon. Every shadow is long and gold.
Caption (narration): "The sun has been half-risen over Halfsun for a hundred and four years."
Caption (narration): "Nobody here has ever seen a shadow move."
The bazaar at full noise. Stalls of fish, rope, lamp-oil. A small crowd in a ring around a boy on an upturned crate.
Caption (narration): "Halfsun market. The busiest hour in the world, because it is the only hour."
TAM, mid-strike on the side drum at his hip, grinning, sweat flying.
Tam says: "Three beats, folks! Short, fast and cheap!"
A coin spinning in the air toward the drum.
Sound: "TAK TAK TAK"
The crowd laughing, one old FISHMONGER clapping on the wrong beat.
Fishmonger says: "You're off again, Tam!"
Tam says: "You're off. I'm perfect."
Tam spins a stick between his fingers, showing off.
Tam thinks: "One, two, three. One, two, three."
His sticks blur. Speed lines in a tight triangle shape (three beats).
The crowd tosses more coins; a child imitates him with spoons.
Tam winks at the child.
Tam says: "Keep it to three. Anything longer and you'll lose count."
The ring of people from behind Tam, the half sun behind the crowd.
Tam's eye. Everything goes quiet in the panel border, white space around him.
Sound: "thum"
Tam freezes, sticks raised. The crowd keeps moving, unaware.
Tam thinks: "There it is again."
Cutaway: under the market, under the canals, a huge slow pulse drawn as a ring rippling through stone.
Sound: "THUM"
Tam thinks: "Under the market. Under everything."
Tam's lips moving, counting without sound.
The fishmonger waves a hand in front of Tam's face.
Fishmonger says: "Tam? You've gone off again."
Tam blinks, laughs it off.
Tam says: "Just tuning."
Over the crowd's heads, at the far end of the square, the bell tower. A grey shape moves under its arch.
At the foot of the tower, the old statue everyone ignores: a woman with no face carved, holding a drumstick.
Caption (narration): "The Striker. Nobody remembers who carved her."
Stillwardens enter the square: bell-shaped helmets, long pale grey robes with small bells on the hems, clock-hand polearms.
Sound: "tin... tin... tin..."
The crowd parting fast, stallholders pulling awnings down.
Crowd says: "Wardens."
Crowd says: "Close the shutters."
The WARDEN CAPTAIN steps forward, helmet under his arm: grey-bearded, calm, a scroll in hand.
The scroll seal: a clock face with no hands.
The captain reads aloud to the whole square.
Warden captain says: "By order of the Bells."
Warden captain says: "Anyone who hears what isn't there will step forward."
People looking at each other, confused.
Crowd says: "Hears what?"
Tam, sweat on his neck, very still.
Tam thinks: "Don't look up. Don't count."
Wardens moving through the crowd, pressing palms to people's chests, listening.
A Warden at a woman's chest, eyes closed, shaking his head.
Warden says: "Ordinary."
A Warden turns toward Tam's crate, three stalls away.
Tam's hand tightening on a stick.
Sound: "thum"
Tam's eyes, flinching at the beat.
The Warden notices the flinch and points.
Warden says: "That one. The drummer."
Tam backing up on the crate.
Tam says: "Me? I'm just loud."
Three Wardens closing in, polearms lowered.
Above them: a striped awning on the rooftop edge bulges, something heavy hitting it from above.
Sound: "FWUMP"
Everyone looks up.
Tam looks up, mouth open.
VELA crashing down through the awning, fabric tearing, debris and speed lines, cloak flaring, smoked-glass goggles over her eyes, a weighted chain wrapped around her left forearm.
Sound: "KRSSH"
Vela's boot lands on Tam's side drum.
Sound: "KRAK"
The drum head split.
Tam on his back, outraged.
Tam says: "My drum!"
Vela crouched on the crate, already looking past him at the Wardens.
Vela says: "Get up."
Vela flicks her chain; it wraps a Warden's polearm and yanks it sideways.
Sound: "SHHK"
The Warden staggers into a fish stall.
Sound: "SPLASH"
Vela wincing; the light behind her goggles is clearly painful.
Vela thinks: "Too bright. Far too bright."
The other Wardens pause, wary.
Vela grabs Tam by the collar and pulls him close.
She lifts her goggles a finger's width. Silver-grey eyes, squinting against the light.
Vela says: "You're a hearer. Don't lie. I saw your face when it beat."
Tam, caught.
Tam says: "I don't know what you're talking about."
Vela, flat and quick.
Vela says: "The stars shiver every time the world's heart beats. I've been counting them for three years."
Tam staring at her.
Vela.
Vela says: "The Wardens say the next First Beat is a century away. Tell me how long you count."
The Warden captain walking toward them, unhurried, the square silent around him.
Tam closes his eyes.
Tam thinks: "Don't."
The beat ripples under the market again.
Sound: "THUM"
Tam's lips moving.
Tam thinks: "One. Two. Three. ...and that little gap again, like a step that isn't there."
The captain stops right in front of the crate.
Warden captain says: "Step down, boy."
Tam opens his eyes. He isn't scared any more; he looks almost amazed.
Tam, quietly.
Tam says: "One thousand, two hundred and ninety-six days."
Vela, under the goggles, mouth slightly open.
Vela says: "...That's my number."
The Warden captain, the colour gone from his face, his free hand gripping the helmet strap.
Warden captain says: "...Nobody is supposed to know that number."
The three of them in the silent square, the half sun behind them, every Warden turned toward the crate.
Art made with AI tools, lettered and laid out by hand.
