Two nights ago, there had been an explosion in the lagoons. According to the gossip on the docks, the polizia had made no arrests. Normally Luca didn’t care, but the unsolved explosion had led to more patrolling of the marketplaces, which made it that much harder to steal.

Every time he got close to snatching an apple or loaf of bread from the stands, he’d catch sight of the polizia with their large, Forged batons, and he would be forced to retreat back to the shadows. There was nothing he could do. If he did not steal, his brother would not eat. And if he got caught stealing, his brother would be undefended.

Luca turned to Filippo. “Are you hungry?”

Filippo put on a brave face and shook his head, but his stomach growled loudly.

Luca clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the gnawing ache at the pit of his gut. Instead, he stared at the gondola crossing the waters. A boy leaned against his father, half-asleep, an unwrapped sweet lying in his lap. Saliva filled Luca’s mouth. Why must they scrabble in the corners? Was this what every day would be like?

At that exact moment, Luca heard a song.

It came from nowhere and everywhere. It rippled the lagoon waters. It shook the jeweled lanterns hovering above the streets and sent the Forged platters of food and merchant wares crashing to the ground.

Filippo gasped, pointing to the Forged platters holding up loaves of bread now falling and shattering hardly three meters from where they hid. Luca lunged forward, taking advantage of the distracted polizia as he stuffed the bread loaves under his jacket and grabbed his brother.

They took off at a run … the strange song nipping at their heels, tugging at their hearts. Luca knew, deep in his bones, that the world was about to change, though he could not say why. Away from the loud, crashing sounds, the brothers tore into their stolen food.

Maybe, thought Luca, as he ripped the bread … maybe the world would change enough that he might finally take a bite of it.

New York, 1890

A group of collectors were lounging in a smoke-choked room at the weekly meeting of the New York Historical Society of Forged Artifacts when it happened.

One moment, the auctioneer held up a gold and lapis-lazuli box the size of a snuffcase. A hippopotamus of carved jade appeared to lift its head and then partially disappear into the blue surface, as if it were a true creature reclining in the waters of the Nile. Thousands of years ago, the shining object had been the beloved toy of a young prince, so dear that it had been placed beside his tomb so that he might continue to play even in the afterlife.

The auctioneer cleared his throat. “This particular piece is rumored to have been the favorite toy of Akhenaton’s son and is a donation from our wonderful friends in the Order of Babel—”