Parn Trippers watched gray rain sift down over Akken and ignored the droning voice behind him. A fire burning in a nearby hearth warmed his back, while a draft from the tall, narrow window cooled his face. Parn had gazed out of this window hundreds of times since becoming councilor, but the view never made him comfortable. Akken had been rebuilt from the ground up and hadn’t returned the same. At least the rooftops were still the old red slate, but the skyline was wrong.

“… and grain shipments are up forty percent this year,” intoned Marto Carono, Akken’s economic adviser.

Parn found the whirlwind of figures that came with running a city mind-numbingly boring. He wasn’t cut out for this, but he’d learned over the years that all he had to do was appear interested. “Forty percent?” Parn echoed, still watching the rain and paying little attention. “That’s great.”

“It is, my lord,” Marto said. “The new wheat from the university has improved yields. What’s more, adding it to a winter rotation has …”

Parn tuned out again. Marto reminded Parn of one of his old schoolteachers, Miss Visee. Her primary contribution to the education of the masses was inducing naps right after lunch. Parn returned to watching the rain. It was coming down harder when Marto finished his report. The wind had picked up, driving big drops against the window.

“Thank you, Marto,” Sera Togrim said. “We look forward to your next report.”

Parn disagreed but didn’t say anything. When the big double doors at the other end of the room closed behind Marto, Parn turned away from the window and looked at the table in the middle of the room. Four chairs at the table. More lined the walls. All empty save one.

Sera Togrim sat at the head of the table, massaging her eyes with one hand. Jewels on rings and on her wrist glittered in the firelight. She wore a fine dress with a thick woolen shawl to ward off the cold. She was in her sixties but looked ninety. She had pushed her chair back to stand up when the door opened again.

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Lorry, the Akken Council’s clerk and primary protector of the Council’s attention span, poked his head in. “I’m sorry, my lady, my lord. I know you’re done for the day, but there’s a man out here who says he needs to see you. It’s of the utmost urgency, he says. Do you—”

“Yes,” Parn said, excited for something interesting today. “Show him in, please.”

Sera sighed but nodded. “Fine. One more. But this is it, Lorry.”

Lorry nodded. “Of course, my lady.”

He opened the door wider and admitted a man dressed in plain working clothes. The man had his hat tucked under one arm. Parn recognized the deep green wool of a golem pilot. A fellow refractor.

“My lady, my lord,” the man said. He made an awkward bow. “Thank you for seeing me on short notice.”

“What’s the problem?” Sera asked, her tone making it clear that it had better be significant.

“It’s Brom, you see,” the man said. “He’s dead. He was a caretaker of that big monument up on the plateau.”

“I’m sorry,” Parn said. “Did you know him?”

“Yes, my lord,” the man said. “I’d not seen him in a long time. But I knew him, and when I heard about it, I went to pay my respects before they cremated the bastard.”

“Bastard?” Parn asked.

“Yeah, he was a right old prick—pardon the language. I wanted to kick his corpse one last time for getting my baby sister—”

“Why is this important?” Sera demanded.

“It was how he looked, my lady,” the man said. “Brom looked a hundred years old. I asked around, and all the caretakers are like that. His body was old.”

Sera arched a brow. “And? We all look a bit silver—”

“My lady, me and Brom went to school together. He’s my age.”

Parn stared at him. The man couldn’t have been older than forty.

Sera sucked in a breath. She lifted her hands off the table and looked at them. “She’s alive. That little monster is still alive. She’s in the plateau. She’s been there this entire time.”

“Who’s alive?” the man asked.

A pit formed in Parn’s stomach. This wasn’t exciting. This was dangerous.

Sera put her hands down and looked at Parn, her eyes hard. “I’ve been up to the plateau dozens of times. How much more did she take?” Parn couldn’t be sure but knew Sera well enough to stay his tongue. “She’s … This is—” Sera slapped her hand on the table. “I’m putting her down, once and for all.” She raised her voice. “Lorry.”

The door opened and Lorry appeared. “My lady? What—”

“Send for Imara. Tell her I want every golem she can get her hands on. Tell her she’s getting her wish. We’re excavating the Tower basements.”

Parn wished for boredom again. He’d not get it. Nobody would. Vani Brattle was still alive, and Sera Togrim was about to tear the plateau apart to find her.