The assembly hummed. Two hundred voices, breathing together, and beneath them the copper-and-glass device singing a note that the human ear could not hear but the human body could feel.
Tarn Vossk stood at the center.
Raising his hands, he brought the cavern to silence. The resonance assembly maintained its focused broadcast, its sustained vibration pressing against every chest like a second heartbeat, but the chanting voices ceased entirely. Two hundred faces turned toward him. Displaced Morreth residents sat on the stone floor in the front rows. Standing behind them, Mechanist recruits held their arms rigid at their sides. At the back gathered the heterodox clergy in their modified vestments, displaying the circle-and-line stitched boldly over the traditional Cog-and-Flame.
Three pipelines. His congregation.
