Night had fallen over Fen Hollow, cold, clear, and quiet. Outside the archive windows, the stars were reflected in the still water of the carp pond like scattered silver bits dropped onto black velvet, while inside the private study, a single animal fat candle burned in a square brass holder, throwing a steady pool of warm yellow light across the oak desk.
Mirelle Voss sat behind the table, with Tomas Reed seated opposite her on a low ash stool.
Between them lay the physical ancient object that had started the six-year journey of Novel 14:
The original cedar delivery box of Chapter 001.
It was eight inches long, five inches wide, and four inches deep, crafted from fragrant heart-cedar by a boxmaker of the old Lantern Company forty years ago. Its corners were heavy with small brass angle-plates held by copper pins, and on its lid, carved into the wood beneath the cracked red sealing wax, was the original delivery label:
FOR MIRELLE VOSS · TO BE DELIVERED AT THE AGE OF NINE · BOND 40 CROWNS
The wood was dark with age, scarred by forty years of neglect, water damp. The scorched soot of the town incinerator from which Tomas had rescued it. But the cedar scent remained, faint and clean, mingling with the smell of iron ink and beeswax.
