ise

high, its dormant solar pulse thrumming

ecognize the Dynasty mark within three seconds, impound it under historical salv

ockets, an obsession with antiquities, and enough poli

r Sincl

a fleeting rumor that old Alastair spent his Tuesday afternoons in the back room of Tomes and Parchment at the north end of Star-lantern

ed open the shop's heavy o

. The smell of cedar, dried elderberry ink, and c

oak of dark charcoal wool lined with manticore fur. A single gold-rimmed monocle was pinched in

appraiser-a stiff, narrow-faced man in forma

ation, my boots making no

immediate condescension. "The junior textbooks are in the bargain bin by the door,

is focus entire

ris-covered disk, and placed it directly onto the poli

constellations is missing its central foc

o snatch the metal away. "Impudent c

," Alastair's

silk cord against his vest. Slowly, he leaned over the table, his breat

lear testing fluid from his vest, uncorked it, and let a

i

he air, carrying the faint, unmistakable sce

ns onto the felt pad with a loud clatter. "The... the Su

head snapping up. His gaze was sharp, piercing

p," I answered evenly. "Its provenance is clean

g the faint, worn outline of the solar barque stamped into the metal. "Name your pr

ousand,"

wsing the adjacent aisles turned their heads sharply

our mind? That is enough to purchase an entire townhouse in the upper district! For an u

ted Dynasty artifacts for decades. "The corrosion isn't age. It's a dormant stasis seal binding the condensed sunlight of the F

alf-open, utterly unable to refute

cing his aristocratic reserve. He let out a sudden, ro

eyes bright with excitement. "A child who understands Third-Era binding mechanics

hands rig

oed from the front

hing a jagged brass knuckle in his left hand. Behind him flanked two hulking brutes in gre

d in fury. "She paid me three coppers for a national treasure! The trade is