“Don’t mind if I do!” He slid off the stool and onto his feet with a barely visible wince at the impact on his metal-braced legs. “Just let me store these out of Mia’s way—”

“I can do it.” I hadn’t missed that wince. “Just—”

“No, no.” Gently, he waved me back. “I know exactly where I want them. I’ve got a whole stack of work done this morning.”

My eyes widened as I followed his progress across the room to a far corner that had been empty when I’d left my own work to fall into bed just before four o’clock that morning. How early had he gotten started—five minutes after I’d left?

“You’ll have to tell me all about them,” said the Countess. “Necromancy is so dreary, you know—always the same old nonsense, all the time.” She waved one elegant hand in dismissal, sending her many bracelets—each made of tiny, interlinked sets of bones—clacking together along her arm. Precious jewels winked out at me from their fastenings as she continued, “I love hearing about more interesting professions. What are you creating today? And how much are you planning to sell it for?”

“We-e-ell…” Dad rolled out his shoulders with a rueful laugh as he walked over to join her. “That last part’s an open question. You see, we don’t have many customers passing by this workshop to make their orders.”

“People remember your work, though, Dad.” I closed the door to the workshop behind us as the Countess led the way back to the table. She glanced at me for permission as she curled her long, light brown fingers around the handle of our old teapot, and I nodded impatiently, my mind fixed on the conversation. “If people knew you were back in business—”

“How exactly would they find out?” the Countess asked idly, her head bent as she poured the tea. “Would they be forced to visit you in order to buy your wares?”

I shuddered at the thought of even more visitors. “Of course not! There are vendors who handle those sorts of sales. Dad, you used to know a few of them, didn’t you?”

“Hmm.” He took a long sip of tea, his eyes falling closed with visible pleasure. “I’m not sure…”

“Of course you did. What was the name of that one who was always trying to pass on work to you before? Sandina Hare, wasn’t it?”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I put her off pretty firmly the last time, though—and that was well over a year ago. I couldn’t just write to her about it now out of the blue. It takes a personal touch to re-establish that sort of connection…and she’s all the way out in Larimont now. That would be a two-day journey even if we had a fancy, fast carriage to take us there.”