The sisters had nearly missed the train. There had been so much to do before their departure. First they bought packets of hair dye to turn Marta’s dark hair blond so she would appear more Aryan. Both girls had rid themselves of their head scarves and cut their waist-length hair, which had never before been shorn. It was shoulder-length, with a fringe of bangs, so they might look like ordinary Germans. They had fled through the window above the sink, landing in a patch of their mother’s herbs. Now they both smelled like rosemary, the scent of remembrance.

They’d found themselves lost in the narrow cobbled streets near the station for more than an hour as they searched for the shuttered storefront where they were to purchase their visas. Before this night they’d barely been out of their house, and Berlin was a mystery. Despite Ettie’s harsh manner, she was innocent in the ways of the world, and now realized they had been taken in by a charlatan. Hanni had given her an address where they could buy their visas, but that man charged too much and instead they’d gone to what people called the Street of Forgers. In her haste she’d chosen an amateur, a painter from the art school who was new to the task and not terribly adept. Once she’d handed over the second emerald, Ettie had no choice but to go forward with his flawed work and hope for the best. They were now sisters called Karin and Margrit Beck, although it was difficult to make out the forger’s messy print. Marta’s fingers had turned blue from the running ink.

As the sisters approached their compartment, Ettie was dismayed to discover they would not be traveling alone. When they slid the door open, Marta gasped. “What is she doing here?”

“It’s not a problem,” Ettie assured her sister. “It’s safer this way.” Ettie seemed confident, but in truth she was nervous to come face-to-face with the golem, although quite amazed by how utterly human her creation appeared to be. Ettie’s first thought was that the monster might take the opportunity of their meeting to harm her, for it was well known that golems often destroyed their makers.

Ava had seen the girls through the glass and had immediately risen to her feet, her face rapt, her shining dark hair flowing down her back like a river. She fell to her knees in gratitude, for her maker was right in front of her, the giver of life, whom she’d believed she would never see again. Ava bowed her head, praying that Ettie would see fit to grant her the continuation of breath and life.

“Stand up!” Mortified, Ettie peered over her shoulder to make sure no one had noticed Ava’s behavior. “You mustn’t call attention to yourself,” she told the creature. “You’re a woman like any other.”