"Excellent," Crafter Derriskew said, standing up. He waved at the door, impatiently hustling two young men that the foreman Ivan escorted into the office.

Samuel was surprised by how ordinary the two of them seemed, as they walked into the Crafter's office with the familiar walk of civilians who believed they were about to be judged. The pair of young men were covered in dust, their hair was long and unruly, and they smelled faintly of sweat and burnt metal.

"These two are Cameron Sjarl and Oscar Letterman. They work as form fitters in the pipe assembly process, and they'll be happy to answer your questions," the crafter said, as he very deliberately set the two young men down.

Both of them looked unnaturally pale and eyed the young crafter warily as they slowly shuffled toward the nearby chairs.

"Have a seat, gentlemen," Crafter Derriskew said firmly, gesturing to the chairs. The Crafter carried himself with a forceful air of authority, and the two young men sat down obediently.

"The inspectors are here to interview you, about your friend. Sirius --no, that's not it -- Stylectus, Invictus?" The Crafter began to saw, floundering as he searched his memory.

"Silas Miller," Samuel said. He coughed and made a deliberate show of looking uncomfortable before he spoke again. "And Crafter Derriskew, is there a place my partner and I can conduct this interview privately?"

"I..." Crafter Derriskew began to say, reluctantly. Samuel forced himself to make and keep eye contact until the Crafter reluctantly shrugged. "You can have my office. Just pull the shutters once we're outside. The room isn't sound-proofed, but it's too noisy outside to overhear anything unless you shout."

"Of course. Thank you, sir," Angela said, nodding politely.

Crafter Derriskew stepped outside, and very gently shut the door behind him.

Samuel waited precisely three seconds before he very deliberately breathed a sigh of relief and turned to the two young men. "That's quite the boss to have."

Strangely, the lamp on the wall seemed to twitch, flickering a little before it settled.

And stranger still to Samuel, both of the young men he was interviewing noticed that small flicker of flame.

"Well boys, if it's any comfort," Angela said as she sat down in front of them, startling them both as if they didn't know she was in the room. "Neither of you are in trouble. After all, we're not from Oversight. We just have some questions about an acquaintance of yours. Silas Miller."

"Right, because the orderlies hand out commendations and lottery tokens to all the good little girls and boys of the City," the young man introduced as Cameron said sullenly, his gaze shifting nervously between Bertram and the lamp on the wall. "What ash pit has Silas landed himself in this time?"

"We'd prefer to ask him that," Samuel said, leaning forward in his seat. "Have you seen or heard about him in the last few hours? I'm told he was supposed to be on this shift."

"We haven't heard from him today," Oscar said. The young man kept his gaze fixed on his boots, and his ash-covered hands tremored little as he held them in his lap.

"Is that normal?" Angela asked.

"Yeah, it's not that strange," Cameron insisted, carefully. "Silas still has one foot in High Central. His dad got us this job, and we have apartments on the fringes of this district. Not High Central, obviously, but home's a half-hour train ride from here. And my evaluator only checks on me twice a week."

"Sorry," Samuel said, his eyes widening a little as he took in not only what Cameron had told him, but the boy's relieved and somewhat grateful smile as he spoke. Samuel marked the rueful, relaxed smile, the awkward rubbing on the back of his head, and the small chuckle he made as the boy finished explaining.

Samuel realized that this boy considered himself fortunate.

"I don't deal with people who can Craft much," Samuel said. "Is this job a lucky break for those of you who can't earn the coat?"

"It is," Bertram said. Samuel was surprised that the shadow had moved to a corner of the room, and was leaning against the wall. "Most rejects are checked on daily. Any of them who have work that takes advantage of their talents, however limited, get a second opinion from a senior evaluator weekly."

"It's a good gig. Believe me, I don't want to torch this opportunity. I doubt I'll do better," Cameron said emphatically. "Silas, well, he really doesn't care about this gig at all. Doesn't really understand how much further there is to fall."

"When was the last time he was at work?" Angela asked. "Did he strike you as distracted, or out of sorts?"

The two boys exchanged a glance before Oscar answered. "Well, he was always distracted. Taken up with an acting troupe in the Billows. They don't have a dispensation to make productions, but they have leave and space from their local council to produce a play."

"What is this troupe called?" Angela asked as she took out a pad of paper.

"Sapling in the ash," Cameron said. "Have to admit, I kinda like the title."

"I've heard worse," Samuel admitted. "Did he seem agitated, or even angry the last time you saw him?"

"Yeah," Cameron said, glancing at Oscar and gesturing with his hand. "He looked like he hadn't slept much in the last few days. He has a fairly steady access to lottery tokens, so he's at the bars a lot. We usually hit up the Derelict Inspector, but he's often at a place near his troupe. I forget the name."

"I'm going to level with you," Samuel said. He made a show of glancing at the door, then said, "your boss said Silas asked him a strange question. He asked about what could make a reject ill. Now, I really don't know a burning thing about what crafting does, asides from the explosions in the sky I saw during the Sixth. Why is it strange for someone who can craft to get sick?"

Cameron smirked. "Because we usually don't. And if we do, we rarely get it as badly as normal folks. It's why rejects often do hospice work, or get into medicine."

"And why the Crafters are the ones who conduct the sterilisation of buildings during a plague," Bertram added from the corner of the room.

Hearing that sent Samuel deep into memories that made his stomach churn. He recalled the tears of a little boy clutching his father's shoulder, as a grim-faced man in a red coat stepped into a room with two bodies on the floor.

Samuel shuddered, and his gaze settled involuntarily on the floor in front of him. He barely heard as Angela continued asking questions.

"Had Silas been involved in anything strange lately?" Angela asked.

"Not strange," Oscar began to say, and he looked at his friend with a shrug.

"For the last few months, Silas was trying to reignite his relationship with an old flame. Wrote her poetry, promised to dedicate a play to her. Some of it was pretty good. Good enough that it didn't make me want to cauterise my ears," Cameron explained. "It wasn't going well, though. I think he started to take it poorly. He's been moodier than usual in the last couple of weeks."

Samuel took a deep breath to steady himself and shook his hands. "What is this friend's name?"

"Amanda Destir. No idea where she works, sorry," Oscar said quickly.

"Inspectors, did you want me to write any of that down?" Cameron asked, taking a badly folded pad of paper out of his pocket.

Amanda gave Samuel a quizzical look, but Samuel only shrugged and gestured his acquiescence, offering the reject a charcoal stick from his coat pocket.

"So none of you have heard of a crafter or a reject getting badly ill? From a plague, a vicious influenza, nothing like that?" Samuel asked.

"No. I'm pretty sure that anything that might have made a reject sick would be in the papers, and the casualties would be high," Oscar said, as Cameron finished writing.

The reject gave Samuel the charcoal stick first, only offering the folded piece of paper after. As Samuel took the paper, Cameron said "you should look it over, Inspector."

His curiosity piqued, Samuel opened the paper. To his shock, there was only a single sentence on the page, and its contents were such a shock that Samuel nearly dropped it.

We are being watched through the Flame

Samuel read the sentence a few times, his teeth clenching as he forced himself to not look at the torch on the wall. A sick, bitter taste lingered in the back of his throat, and his legs felt heavy.

Wordlessly, he handed the note to Angela, and took a deep breath to steady himself. He hadn't noticed, but his hands were clenched into fists, and the budding rage he felt had made his muscles quiver in anticipation of a fight.

"Well, I think that's about all we need to know for now," Samuel said, as he stood up. He stepped up to the two rejects, who hurriedly rose to their feet.

Samuel then offered his hand. Both of the young men stared at him blankly for a long moment, their gazes slowly moving between his hand and his face. They looked bewildered, and nervous.

"Thank you for your help, gentlemen," Samuel said, leaving his hand extending towards them.

Eventually, Oscar shook his hand.

"If you can think of anything else, please let me know. Second Billows Precinct, ask for Samuel Fraser or Angela Ostal. And if you see Mister Miller, ask him to turn himself in to a precinct. We'd like this to end as peacefully as we can," Samuel said, shaking the hand that Cameron eventually offered.

"I... of course. Burn brightly, Inspector," Cameron said.

"And you," Samuel said kindly. He turned away and headed for the door, with Angela and Bertram following.

As they stepped back into the heat of the Crucible, Samuel could see the unmistakable red coat in the distance. Crafter Derriskew appeared to be deeply involved in whatever he was doing, leaning over a pipe.

But even at this distance, Samuel could recognise the unfocused busywork of a man whose attention was elsewhere.

Samuel walked towards the crafter, skirting along the far side of the black posts until he reached the opposite side of the pipe that Crafter Derriskew was looking at.

"Crafter," Samuel said. "I just wanted to thank you for your assistance."

"Oh," Crafter Derriskew said, with a gentle shrug. "It's no trouble. I'm happy it helped."

"Curious about Amanda. Is that about how long Miller has been less focused than usual?" Samuel asked.

"It is," the crafter replied absentmindedly.

Samuel grinned and enjoyed the moment when Crafter Derriskew realised what he had said. Fury rippled across the crafter's face for only a moment, and Samuel didn't even bother to disguise his pleasure.

"Be careful what you accuse me of, inspector," Crafter Derriskew said quietly.

"Accuse you of something? I was just thanking you. You've been very helpful," Samuel replied jovially, turning away and returning to Angela and Bertram.

Both of them were waiting for him at the entrance. "You call him out on that little stunt of his?" Angela asked.

"No," Samuel admitted. "I don't really want to pick a fight with a Crafter. Especially when there are so many kilns around to dispose of the evidence. Speaking of which, let's get the burning hell out of here."

Angela chuckled as she opened the door and they made their way into the cool night air.

Samuel breathed a deep sigh of relief and billowed his coat to let the cold air in. As if the stress of the evening was leaving with the excess heat beneath his coat, Samuel felt more relaxed than he had in days. He looked up at the small patches of sky he could see between towering buildings and overhanging causeways, and noticed the sky was no longer black.

"It's almost morning," Samuel pointed out.

Beside him, Angela nodded, and reached into her pocket to check her watch. "Parliament sits in an hour. Silas Miller's mother should be there. And his father will be in Civil Development's headquarters. We could have both interviews wrapped up before noon if we split up."

Samuel paused for a moment, searching through his partner's plan. "I like it. Angela, head to Development's headquarters and speak to the father. Be as thorough as possible. Bert..."

Samuel turned to address their escort. "If you would, head back to your headquarters and find out what you can on this friend that they mentioned. Amanda Destir. Find out where she works, what she does for fun, and see if she's been sick in the last few weeks."

Bertram nodded, and stepped away from them. "I don't think we're familiar enough with each other for nicknames, Inspector."

"We're hunting an angry young man who can light people on fire by thinking," Angela retorted. "That's more than enough grounds for stupid nicknames."

Bertram shrugged. "Fair enough. Where would you like to meet?"

"At Nursery Tower, half past ten," Samuel said.

"And Samuel, Angela," Bertram said firmly, his mannerism shifting into that quiet intensity that reminded Samuel of every other shadow he had met tonight. Bertram's nearly whisper of a voice demanded Samuel's attention, and the intensity of the shadow's gaze was unnerving.

"Do not go past your current errand before I reunite with you. I'll make sure an evaluator meets you at Civil Development's headquarters," Bertram insisted, pointing at Angela.

"Just me? What about him?" Angela asked, pointing to Samuel.

Samuel raised an eyebrow and gave Bertram a pointed look.

"Someone I went through the Gauntlet with will be there. Her charge has been summoned to the Agora, so she should be able to keep an eye on you."

"Understood. And we'll wait for you at Nursery Tower," Samuel promised.

"Good," Bertram nodded, before turning away.

Samuel watched the shadow until he rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.

Angela smiled at him, a strange expression that had depths Samuel couldn't discern. "You're wearing this determination well, Sam. It looks good on you."

"You think so?" Sam asked. His collar felt tight, and he couldn't help but fidget a little. "I, I thought it might go well with a hat. Something like Commander Aranhall's."

To Sam's relief, Angela laughed and slapped her knee. "Okay, now I know you're kidding. No one should be forced to wear that awful thing he has on his head."

"Right," Samuel said, relieved.

There were times when Samuel wondered if Angela was too good of a friend to be his partner.