Nine men and women in the dark seek out to know what song they play and not by chance – perhaps by Grace – yet most importantly, by will, for will's a frequency itself; nine wills amassed may form a song, a song that's true, uttered as whole, a song that grows at the same pace of the lines of song of their producers. Nine lines of song and one vibration that unlocks the dimension-door into their new adventure: a humanoid way-maker, an intuitive Gre, three in the reasoning board, the observer, Arít, and Uiio, learning to fulfil her role as communicator between the seen and the unseen; and then the mysteries: what lines of song do they play? One is more silent than the other, but will opaqueness now give way?

Arít was observing Umbe and Maýla-i and then looked at the reasoning board – Sla, Sakna-Sa and Menior.

Meknáni, though, had the first suggestion. "I'll let them take initiative this time. More active engagement."

Both Boors were startled and appeared uneasy.

"Shouldn't the leaders lead the way?" Maýla-i cowered.

"So far," said Sakna-Sa, "we have been able to establish that frequency unlocks the portal into a new dimension, and we were told by M'alala that the key lies in unity, not in separation; Meknáni then pointed that the best indicators of one's line of song are found in their actions. That's why he's now suggesting that you take initiative and, in doing so, reveal your music, as it were."

"Poetical," huffed Umbe.

"What do you suggest we do, Umbe?" asked Sakna-Sa.

"I say we discuss to M'alala again"–he gazed at Uiio–"and explain that since we were unaware of the perils of this place, we ought to be allowed passage back to Umbar."

After considering in silence for a few moments, Arít asked, "Why do you resist? What do you have to hide?"

Wide-eyed, Umbe replied, "I have something to hide? This whole place's a shrouded mystery. This"–gazing sideways into the unfathomable Íma–"fluid physicality with its frequency keys and its riddles and we're running – we're chasing illusions–"

Meknáni grunted. Menior drew closer.

"Is it so that so far we have been unharmed?" the latter asked.

Umbe glanced at Menior, one arm up, and replied, "Yes, it is so, but it doesn't change the fact that we're trapped here, does it?"

Inclining his head, Menior answered, "Didn't you hear M'alala say that we're the ones keeping ourselves trapped?"

"It's unfair!" pressed Umbe. "Now we have to change everything – change our group structure, change our thinking, invent some song that we can't even hear–"

"That's your suggestion, then?" Meknáni leaned closer. "Confront M'alala? With what argument?"

"That we didn't know about this process of learning and, if given the chance, we wouldn't have started it," Umbe complained.

Glances all around.

"As an Umbarian," Arít began, but stopped mid-sentence: Umbe had turned on his heel, dismissing the Savier's words.

Silence. Then Sakna-Sa said, "Perhaps a few minutes to regroup are required. The strain has been great on us all."

Assenting nods. Glances shot at Umbe. Maýla-i was standing by Umbe's side, but looking at the team.

"This place feels deeper," whispered Uiio, some team members away.

"Fear," Gre whispered back, pointing with his eyes Umbe's way. "An irrational response."

"You're right," she nodded.

Some distance away, Menior glanced at Arít. "A refuse to carry on," he said in a low tone. "Anger as defence mechanism."

Arít shot a glance at Umbe. "That's it: emotion."

His last word reverberated across the space.

Sakna-Sa drew closer. Meknáni as well. Now the four of them were talking.

"That sounds logical," Sakna-Sa said. "There's a reasoning board and a board of emotions. Now who's what emotion?"

"It's still not certain about Maýla-i, so there might not be a board," Menior pointed out.

"True," said Arít. "And if there were, perhaps an emotion-response board would not be limited to a certain side of the spectrum."

"Maybe they represent different types of emotions," Menior suggested.

"But how can we discern, then, if they're so opaque?" Meknáni asked.

"They're not both opaque," answered Sakna-Sa.

"They both cowered," came Meknáni's argument. "And now they're silent – maybe it'll go away, they might be thinking."

"Only one has had an outburst, though," remarked Sakna-Sa. "If both of them are the emotions board, at least we can tell that, whatever those may be, they're not both the same emotions."

They glanced at Maýla-i. She appeared to be trying to comfort Umbe.

"She's more diplomatic," commented Arít. "Tries to bring comfort."

"The softer side of emotions," pondered Meknáni.

Assenting nods from the other three.

"That may be it," said Arít.

"They mean no harm," Maýla-i told Umbe, having turned to him and now reaching out slightly as if to caress his arm.

"What do you know?" Umbe replied harshly, jolting.

"We cannot keep adding salt to a meal and make it less salty," she replied with a Boor proverb. "The way out is the way through. Somehow, I know that we can overcome this, too."

"Hope's frail," said Umbe gravely. "The thing is, this task is too great for us. Am I the only one who sees it?"

Their eyes met.

"Maybe it's not so," Maýla-i retorted.

"Can the fluidity of this place simplify our task? No. It adds to it. Have we ever been in a situation like this before? Never. Do we truly hold the key? No. We're just assuming. We may be trapped here till we die. We cannot climb thin, ever-expanding, self-moulding air."

Maýla-i didn't know what to reply to Umbe's fiery, hushed speech.

Changes in the formations around. The team was gathering.

"They represent emotions," said Gre.

Sla nodded briefly. "I know."

Menior advised a tactful approach.

Sakna-Sa took the lead. "Umbe. Maýla-i."

The two Boors turned. The team had reunited in a circle.

"We wish you to know that your reactions are valid and accepted as such," Sakna-Sa said.

Concurring nods.

"And that initiative is no longer expected of you," she added.

Umbe and Maýla-i drew a step nearer.

"They're not?" Maýla-i asked. "Then how will you know our lines of song?"

"We've inferred from this episode that you two represent emotions," continued the Savier.

A very vivid startle in his eyes, Umbe murmured, "Emotions?" Then skimming as if an inner depth, he added, "Fear." The word was barely distinguishable upon his lips.

Maintaining eye contact at all times, Sakna-Sa drew closer. "It is alright. No need to fight it."

"But," Umbe said hastily, "if I'm fear and this is a fluid reality"–he gazed past her, at Meknáni–"I'll never get to your level. We'll be trapped here forever."

Menior glanced at Gre. Gre glanced inwards.

"Integration," mused Gre. "A piano is a piano and a violin, a violin. No need for either to replicate the sound of the other, only to be harmonious together."

"How can fear, or despair, ever be harmonious with reason?" asked Umbe.

"A sound remains a sound," retorted Sakna-Sa, drawing Umbe's attention back to her. "Purely. A deeper note can find its place in an orchestra of sound."

"You think so?" Umbe asked, inhaling profoundly. "How?" Then turning, "Oh, I should not have come! I'm pinning you down. It's me who keeps us stuck."

"Don't be so harsh upon yourself," said Menior. "You are an excellent field analyst. Time and again, you have provided valuable insight and observations on our missions. And Maýla-i as well."

Umbe was still fighting.

"Why couldn't we be the reasoning board as well?" He shot a glance at Maýla-i. "Secondary, perhaps, but still..."

The answer appeared clear to Maýla-i. "I allow myself to be the song-line of emotion if that's what you've reflected I am."

"How do you feel about this role?" asked Arít.

"I'm alright, I guess." She almost shrugged.

Umbe's jaw was set, and he was searching his mind. "At least you're not stuck as low as I am," he mumbled.

"Heavy, more deeply-rooted emotion-replies," commented Gre, turning his gaze between the two. "You've got the depths of the subconscious as line of song, and Maýla-i covers the spectrum of the day-to-day, lighter emotions. Now I understand why M'alala said you were the bravest."