Nursery Tower was one of the greatest of the City's marvels.

From where Samuel stood on the station platform, every other floor of the tower looked as if it had been gutted. Through each level, Samuel could see the sky, or other towers, and even a wisp of low lying cloud just as it was pulled apart by the air currents around the Spire.

But the most startling thing about Nursery Tower was the other colour Samuel could see in those hollowed out floors.

Green.

Vines trailed off the edges of the balconies. Bushes and small trees seemed to reach up as to climb the windows on the next floor, and from the distance Samuel looked from, the tower was so vividly, vibrantly green it threatened to bring tears to his eyes.

"Inspector!" someone shouted from further down the platform. Samuel turned his head to see Angela and Bertram make their way through the crowd.

Samuel smiled in relief, seeing his partner again.

"You learn anything from the father, Ang?"

"No. That ash-bitten prick gave me nothing but excuses and platitudes. Hasn't seen his son in months, doesn't know a thing about the boy's life, unwelcome in his home, so on and so forth to ad-burning-nausea," Angela explained, her voice surprisingly bitter.

Samuel knew the reason behind her anger, even if Angela would never voice it. Failure cut at his partner deeper than it did for most.

"Well, the mother was surprisingly helpful," Samuel said, as he explained what he and learned from his recent interview.

"So there's more than one reject who's gotten sick? And this one died?" Angela asked.

"One sick, one dead. And we're not even a full day into this investigation," Samuel reflected. He turned to Bertram and asked, "have you ever heard of anything that could make a reject sick?"

"No. Especially not something that seems to hit just rejects," Bertram admitted, shrugging in confusion. "Burn me, I would have laughed at anyone making the suggestion."

"The reject that died, Francis Pilchner," Angela began to say. "Does he work for Research?"

Samuel looked to Bertram and was surprised to see the shadow nodding in the affirmative. When their companion saw Samuel's surprise, he waved his hand and chuckled. "I know the shadow who had Francis as an assignment. I'll ask her to meet us later today, see what she can tell us."

"Alright. So, I guess our next step is to head to the Foundry and speak to Amanda Destir, see what we can learn from her," Samuel said, pointing at the platform behind him.

"Wait, we're not here to check our quarry's family residence?" Bertram asked.

Bertram looked as if he had never learned that fire burns, as he glanced from Samuel to Angela. It took only a heartbeat for the shadow's incredulity to shift to indignation, as he pointed back toward Nursery Tower.

"Members of Parliament are given residences there, you said so," Bertram said, his finger wagging towards the tower for emphasis. "Their home is spitting distance from us, and you're just going to walk away?"

Samuel laughed and looked at Angela. "With permission from what judge?" Samuel asked. "It would take days to convince a Justice of the Peace to let me into her home on the evidence we have."

"It's a good thing you're doing this on behalf of Oversight, then," Bertram said as he drew his knife. He held the obsidian pommel up, where it glinted with both the light of the sun and the Spire. "This is all the authority I need."

"I might need to reconsider that offer to join," Angela said with a smile.

But Samuel found himself deeply troubled by the shadow's assertion. As much as he might view the restraints on his own authority as a nuisance, and it often was, there was a comfort in needing to be given permission to search someone's home without their consent.

"Sam, are you coming?" Angela asked. Samuel blinked, shaking himself out of his musings and stepped quickly to catch up.

Bertram led the way across the street at a surprisingly brisk pace. Surprising, because the man hardly seemed to be moving as he stalked across the way. Samuel and Angela had to jog at times to stay close.

Bertram stopped in front of the building's doors and drew his knife. Only after the blade was resting in his hand did the shadow open the door, and marched onward.

Samuel tried following the shadow's pace, but as his eyes adjusted to the slightly dim light in the entrance hall, he slowed down and gawked.

It was the sound that struck Samuel first. The constant drone of the various noises of the City was muffled and drowned beneath the continuous, quiet roar of more than a dozen massive fountains falling through holes in the ceiling.

Each of those fountains was a massive stream of water pouring over a stone monument. The largest in the centre of the hall was a construct of a few stalks of wheat, each length twice as tall as a person. Around those stalks were other, smaller monuments that looked similar to Samuel's untrained eyes.

"Every crop the City has planted gets at least a little monument," Angela explained, pushing at Samuel to keep him moving.

"This is..." Samuel murmured, waving his arms.

"Yeah. It's burning incredible. But we don't have the time," Angela insisted, pointing ahead.

Bertram was already in a conversation with the elevator conductor, gesticulating with the pommel of the knife in his hand and pointing up. By the time Samuel drew close enough to listen, the poor man Bertram was accosting had already conceded to the shadow's demands, and the elevator doors were open.

"They live on the ninety-fourth floor. Room number three," Bertram said, as he led them into the elevator.

Samuel's eyed widened, and he forgot to take a breath.

"Ninety-fourth floor?" Angela asked, sounding as surprised as Samuel felt. "Upper Central is thirty stories above the ground. How high is this building?"

"One hundred and four stories," Bertram replied as the elevator doors closed.

"Burn me," Samuel muttered.

"So, why are Parliamentarians offered residences here?" Angela asked. "And why the burning hell do you know so much about this place?"

"Because if we had the time, I would take you through one of the gardens, or the nurseries in this place. You won't see as much green, even if you work in the fringes or the fields," Bertram explained, almost reverently.

"Plus, when you're important, you aren't expected to commute from the district you represent. You're supposed to lose touch," Samuel said.

"Also, it's probably a good way to keep parliament happy with you," Angela added.

Surprisingly, the elevator climbed for nearly a minute without interruption. When it did stop, the spiral counter above the door read '94'.

Samuel was impressed. The elevator in his own building took almost as long to climb a tenth of the floors.

The doors opened to a polished marble hall, lined with plants, artwork, and statues. The ceiling was so high Samuel couldn't touch it if he jumped, the hallway itself was wider than most apartments in the Billows, and the walls were lined with the new electric light-bulbs, instead of the fires drawn from the Spire.

The whole effect left the hall surprisingly cool, and comforting.

"So this is how they live up here," Angela said, her mouth slightly agape. "I could get used to this."

"We should probably stop gawking," Samuel said, fussing with his coat and trying to keep his face as neutral as possible. "It's hard to take someone seriously when they're staring at the ceiling with their mouth wide open."

"Eyes forward. Heart hard," Bertram added, pointing down the hall. "Their apartment should be just around that corner."

They walked down the long hall, rounded the corner, and stopped.

Someone stepped out into the hall. Samuel could see a large, embossed number four on the open door the figure passed through.

A young man, haggard looking but clean shaven, with a haircut that left his head almost bald on the sides and back, with long locks of hair tumbling down his left side. The coat was well tailored, unadorned but neatly cut, and made of wool rather than the hemp fibres most of the City wore.

"Burn me," Angela gasped.

Samuel's heart felt as if someone had sunk a hand into his chest and grabbed it.