Riverwash smelled like joy.

It was the first thing Samuel noticed as the train doors opened and he stepped out onto the platform. The air smelled clean; stripped of the ash and smoke by the breeze that followed the river. And more, there were subtle notes of herbs and other plants.

Samuel wondered if this smell was a memory of how the world was, before the Gloam.

"I'd pick this over High Central," Angela mused beside him. She tapped him on the shoulder, and Samuel saw she was smiling. "Give me a commissioner position nearby, and I'd be happier than a coal in a bonfire."

"Agreed," Samuel said.

"Inspectors," Bertram said as he followed them across the platform. "What is our objective here? We're interviewing Amanda because of her connection with Silas Miller. We're not here to pry into Research's secrets."

"Unfortunately," Samuel explained, "that isn't quite the case. Silas believes there's a conspiracy that's hurting his friends, and now wants to kill him. And the trouble for us is he's not entirely wrong. So to find him, we need to know more about Amanda Destir and what's making her sick."

"There isn't a conspiracy to kill him," Bertram rebutted.

"There is a conspiracy, and the City's authorities are trying to kill him. In his eyes, the two are linked."

"That is burning absurd," Bertram said.

"Of course it is," Angela agreed. "But that's how he's thinking, and we need to respect that in order to help find him. So we're going to find out what we can about Amanda's withdrawal from her social life, and how long she's been getting sick."

"I..." Bertram hesitated, clearly foundering for a rebuttal. A moment later, he gave up and shrugged. "I can live with that."

"Good," Samuel said. "Because if it weren't for this conspiracy, Silas could have gone into hiding with absurd ease. Parents like his could have set Silas up with a new life anywhere in the City. So this conspiracy is our only angle for getting a sense of where he'll go next."

Bertram only nodded, and followed in silence as they walked along one of the low levee walls. The rails were lined with green ivy, speckled with trees, and littered with small birds as they returned from picking at the shores below.

The homes they passed as they followed the walkway were small, only a few stories high, and likely only contained a dozen residences each. Each of them, to Samuel's profound surprise, were allotted a small garden plot in front of each building.

"Civil Maintenance work can get you a place here?" Samuel asked. "I'm in the wrong career."

"It's considered a less desirable place to live because of the history of flooding. It was called Riverwash for a reason." Bertram explained.

"When was the last flood?" Angela asked.

"Shorty after the Fourth. About a century ago," Bertram said.

"Good for them," Samuel said, as he read the numbers on the sides of the building. "Here we are."

Samuel stepped up to the door, forcing himself to refrain from stopping at the small garden plot and smelling the unusual collection of flowers growing along the sides of the walkway. Instead, he raised his hand to the knocker and cracked it on the door.

There was a pause, lasting for several seconds, before the door was opened by a lean, grizzled man with a suspicious glare. His face had a single, odd looking burn around his left eye, a burn that looked remarkably like safety fencing.

"Who are you?" the man asked without preamble, fixing Samuel with a hard stare.

"Inspector Samuel Fraser," Sam said, holding his badge up into the air. "Are you Cade Destir? Amanda Destir's father?"

"I am," the man replied carefully, not opening the door any wider. "What's this about?"

"We're collecting background information about a case. We were hoping to ask you some questions about your daughter, and an acquaintance of hers. Do you mind if we come in for a bit?" Samuel asked.

Samuel met the man's gaze and held it. He watched the man's scarred, care-worn face smooth as his grimace faded, and he started seriously considering Samuel's request. Samuel could see, in the shift in the man's jaw, the moment he made up his mind.

As a consequence, Samuel already had one foot in the door when the man started opening it. "Yeah, I can give you a few minutes."

"Thank you," Samuel said, as he followed Cade inside.

"Have to admit, I'm surprised," Cade said, as he walked back into his home and rounded a corner. "Can I make you some tea, inspectors?"

"Please," Sam answered, glancing around at the sparse decorations and simple furniture.

"I'd offer you something stronger, but that seems a touch inappropriate at this hour. Take a seat at the table, I'll join you in a minute."

"Much obliged," Samuel said, and moved deeper into the house until he saw a simple metal table with five chairs around it. He stepped around and sat down. Angela and Bertram follows suit, just as a kettle began to whistle.

Cade set a pot of tea in the middle of the table, and slid a cup to each of them. "Give the tea a few minutes. Now, what has my daughter got herself mixed up in?"

Angela made to answer, but Samuel held his hand up, a signal she knew as a junior inspector to allow the senior to take the lead. "What makes you think she's in trouble?" Samuel asked.

"Ignorance, I suppose," Cade said, as he sat down. "I haven't heard much from or of her since she went to work for Research."

"Really?" Samuel asked. "I understand they're a secretive bunch, but they're not cloistered. They must live lives like the rest of us."

"You would think so. So did she, at first. Thought she'd be able to weekend with us, did for the first few weeks," Cade recalled. "She looked a little under the weather, and slept like a stone that first weekend back with us. But that just looked like overdoing it trying to impress at your job. After all, she's a reject now."

"That makes sense," Angela admitted.

"But you said 'at first'," Samuel said.

"She only came home a few more times after that. I haven't seen her in almost two months, and even then, she looked gaunt and weary. And she refused to talk to be about what she was doing there. Burning hell, I saw her ex more recently than that," Cade explained.

Something in Samuel immediately became suspicious. Cade's expression became very placid, but very focused as he talked. And the man's gaze was fixed on Bertram as he mentioned the ex boyfriend.

"Ex?" Samuel asked, with only a hint of curiosity, hoping to draw Cade's attention back. It was telling, though, when it didn't work.

Because as much as Angela might want to tease him about being an open book, Bertram was by far the easiest of them to read.

"Interested in her ex? What was his name..." Cade trailed off.

"Silas Miller," Bertram said, excitedly. He leaned forward. "Have you seen him recently?"

Samuel swore under his breath, and made a very deliberate show of pouring himself a cup of tea. "Did this breakup happen around the same time she became more distant with you?"

"It did," Cade said, answering Samuel's question while still studying Bertram's face. "The boy was a bit of a dolt, but he was charming. She liked him. She was oddly calm when she broke up with him."

"How recently did you see Silas Miller?" Bertram asked. The shadow leaned forward, and let his coat open enough to expose the handles of his knives.

Samuel clenched his teeth and squeezed his cup.

"Just a few days ago. Asked me a lot of what you asked, actually," Cade said carefully. "And I'd like you all to leave my house now. I'm not fond of being threatened."

"We still have-" Bertram began to say, but Angela put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, cutting him off.

"Of course, Mister Destir. And thank you for the tea," Samuel said, setting the cup down. He stood up, and gestured to the door. "Angela, Bertram, we should be on our way."

Angela nodded, and practically had to haul Bertram to his feet. Samuel stood by the hall, and waited for the two of them to pass before he turned back to Cade. "I am sorry, Mister Destir. As much as that's worth to you."

Cade nodded, and the cross-stitching of scars on his face gleamed in the light. "You can stay, inspector. I'll rely on your partner to keep that goon on the far side of my front door."

"I," Samuel stuttered, surprise. "Thank you, Mister Destir. They'll wait outside."
Angela nodded, and led Bertram to the front door.

"Burning shadows. Think they own the City," Cade muttered to himself. "The shadow attached to my daughter until a couple of weeks ago was an ash-bitten monster."

"Was he?" Samuel asked as he sat back down.

"Yeah. I'm not sure what happened to him. My child broke down in tears about four months ago, said he's been hitting her for sport. It's not unheard of for shadows. Used to be more common, but older rejects told her that Oversight started cracking down on it a decade ago. Guess it might be true, because I told her to bring it up with her supervisor at Research. A few days later, she dropped by in the middle of the night just to give me a hug. Only saw her one time after that."

"I see," Samuel said. "Apologies about Bertram. Like most of Oversight, recent events have made him a little testy."

"That incident at Billows Station?" Cade asked.

"It cuts a little too close to home for him," Samuel admitted. "So what can you tell me about the work Angela did for Research?"

"Almost nothing," Cade waved his hands and shrugged. "She was very tight-lipped about it. Guess it was important. She had a falling out with her mother about it."

"Why is that?" Samuel asked.

"Her mother," Cade trailed off. Samuel leaned forward and waited, letting Amanda's father work together the words to explain. Eventually, he said "her mother belongs to the Cult of the Quenched Redeemer. Don't know if you've ever heard of it."

"Only a little," Samuel admitted, relieved he could tell the truth. Asides from the occasional bit of vandalism at an outflow control station, that quasi-religious group rarely crossed any newspaper Samuel read.

Although Samuel recalled the taste of the mead he had been given at the Frosty Hearth, and who the bartender had credited with brewing it.

It was a connection, however tangential, between Amanda Destir and Clovis Hannover. It looked coincidental, it certainly wouldn't be enough to get permission to investigate from his captain, but Samuel hated coincidences. Too often, a coincidence was just a word to cover for a poorly understood connection.

"Well, the Redeemers have some prejudices about secret projects worked by Crafters. They talked about rioting during the Sixth, when they first saw the airships. Said the Dragon might have been their salvation."

Samuel scoffed at the idea.

"Mister Destir, has your daughter been unwell lately?" Samuel asked, changing the subject. He didn't want to indulge too far into what could be an irrelevant tangent.

"Not that I know of," Cade said. "Although, like I said, I haven't seen her in weeks. Odd though..."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"That's exactly what her ex boyfriend was asking, last time he was here."

That piqued Samuel's interest. "This was a few days ago, was it?"

"Three days ago, yes. Took me half an hour to calm the poor fool down. He asked me if I'd seen Amanda recently, and that he was getting worried. Seems a friend of his, who went to work for Research, came down with some sort of illness that he never recovered from. I didn't think much of it until he explained that rejects don't get sick."

"I see," Samuel said.

"You don't think my Amanda is getting sick, do you?"

Samuel shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Research hasn't been very forthcoming. I still haven't been allowed to interview her."

"Really?" Cade whistled, and leaned back in her seat. "She must be involved in something important."

"Looks like it," Samuel agreed. He finished the last of his tea, and set it down on the table. "Mister Destir, thank you for your time. Particularly the last few minutes. It's been extremely helpful.

"By the sounds of things, my kid could use some allies. Please look out for her, inspector. And let her know her family loves her," Cade said, as Samuel made for the exit.

Samuel's response surprised himself. "I will."