Everyone moved, except for Rownie and his heartless brother. Rowan seemed perfectly content to stand in place, whether or not the bridge came crashing down beneath them.

“Are you listening?” Rownie asked him. “Can you hear what we’re saying? Do you know what’s going on?” He poked Rowan’s arm and got no reaction. He kicked his brother in the shin, and got no reaction from that either—and then he really wished that he hadn’t kicked him. He felt his own heart slam against his rib cage, as though it wanted to get as far away from this place as it possibly could.

The stones and metal workings of the Clock Tower groaned. Rownie thought he also heard music in the sound, but he couldn’t be sure. Then the flood noise grew louder. It roared and echoed in the unseen throat of the River mask.

The roar shifted something inside Rownie’s chest. An idea came to him.

“Come on,” he said. “You might not have any will or momentum, but I think I can find you some.” He took his brother’s hand and led him to the very first mask, the mask that was also the River, the mask no performer ever wore. The open mouth of the mask thundered. Rownie was very much afraid of sinking down and drowning in its bottomless eyes.

He took it from the wall. It was made of stone and very heavy. He stumbled under the weight of it.

“Rownie?” Thomas called from the other side of the tower. “Whatever you are doing, I doubt very much that it is a good idea!”

“Probably not,” Rownie answered, but he did not return the mask to its place. He looked up at his brother. “I’m going to put this on you. I really hope you don’t mind. But if anyone can keep from drowning under this, it’s you.” He climbed onto a crate and slipped the mask over Rowan’s face.

The River mask merged with Rowan’s skin. The inked and painted lines of it flowed across his face. He threw back his head, opened his mouth, and gave one wordless shout with an immense and canyon-carving voice. The sound was a bridge of water between the mountains and the sea.

Rownie jumped down from the crate and shouted against the swirling, rushing onslaught of noise. “Rowan!”

Rowan looked at him. His hair moved around his head like riverweed swept by strong currents. His eyes had become vast and full.

“Hi,” Rownie said to his brother, who was also the River. “Please don’t flood.”

“This is not a very good idea!” Thomas called as he hurried across the tower floor. “Where is the city mask? Nonny, fetch the city mask! Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up. The source of all our craft seems to be underway, and no one has rehearsed for it!”