Carver Raeth's office was barely larger than a storage closet, with just enough space for a small table and four chairs. The only sign of the esteem the school held in this old teacher was that, unlike nearly every other room in the building, this one had a window.

"Mister Raeth?" Tabitha asked as she stepped into the office.

Carver Raeth was difficult to see over the small mountain of paper piled on his desk. Stacks of paper rose nearly two feet off the desk, and despite what appeared to be a valiant effort to keep it organized, the piles were folding into one-another, creating a simile of a fortress that the teacher now hid behind.

"Yes, madam Crafter?" Desmond asked in response, rising to his feet. He gestured to the open seats and smiled. "How can I help?"

Tabitha was surprised to find he stood nearly as tall as she and Mathias did.

"I'm looking for an apprentice of the Guild. Gerald Raeth. I'm told he's your child."

"Not a child anymore," Carver Raeth replied, shaking his head. "He hasn't been a child for quite some time."

"There's a story to that," Mathias said, with surprising gentleness.

"Aye. One of grief and pride. Why are you looking for him?" Carver asked.

"I'm told your son is clever, which doesn't happen in a vacuum. Why would a Crafter be looking for a first-year apprentice?" Mathias asked. He looked amused as he asked, as he casually sat down.

Clever shadow, Tabitha thought to herself as she claimed the other empty seat.

"Ah. Sorry," Carver replied, chuckling in relief. "I was worried for a moment. I didn't expect a Crafter to go out of their way for an apprentice. I assumed it was trouble."

Perceptive and insightful. Tabitha might have let her approval show, in other circumstances.

"My Crafter's eccentric, and bored," Mathias replied, slouching a little in his chair.

"Did he come home?" Tabitha asked as she took the other seat. "It's not uncommon for an apprentice to have a difficult relationship with his family. Especially if the Craft manifests early."

"He came home for a couple of days," Carver admitted. "The Guild's apprenticeship seems to be treating him well, I haven't seen him happy that consistently since before we discovered he was a potential."

"Did he tell you where he planned to go next?" Mathias asked, still appearing utterly at ease.

"I'm afraid not," Carver chuckled. "But since you'll ask me to hazard a guess next, I'd expect he wants to study the Gloam."

"The Gloam?" Mathias asked. The man gave a convincing imitation of being surprised. "That's an odd subject to care about. One that tends to get people into trouble."

Mathias was still relaxed, but his tone hinted at the unspoken taboo around studying the Gloam. Tabitha recognized it as a gentle prod and made a careful note to appreciate her new shadow's subtlety more.

"That taboo comes from having cultists getting their hands on the flow controls for the pilot lights at the walls," Carver said, his voice slightly raspy as it carried his irritation. "Parliament is fond of blaming their stupidity on the Gloam itself."

Tabitha was surprised to see Carver hesitate, before adding, "though Gerald always said there was something alive about the Gloam. He said it had a will."

Tabitha exchanged a short, nervous glance with Mathias.

"You said there was a story to Gerald's early adulthood. Grief and pride, I believe your words were," Tabitha said. "Would you tell us that story?"

"I can't see the harm in it," Carver said, as he paused and leaned back in his chair.

"Eight years ago, I was lead hand among the stonemasons during the last Reclamation project. Somewhere further in the City, they had a distribution problem with the flow of fire, and our entire section went dark. Gerald was with me that day, stuck playing in a field while his old man guided wall construction. Our community didn't have the teaching staff at the time to handle full-time education," Carver began.

"No full-time education?" Mathias asked.

"That change was likely Gerald's fault. Being involved in a crafter's education is a mark of prestige among teachers," Tabitha explained.

"The Gloam swept around us in minutes. A lot of people ran, but the nearest causeway was four miles away, and the next wall was ten miles off. I don't know if you've ever seen the Gloam surge when the lights go out, but that avalanche of fog felt like the bloody end of everything."

"My father described it, more than once. He served during the Fifth," Mathias reflected.

"Yeah. Anyone who witnessed the Fifth would understand. It moved as fast as billowing smoke rises, and that feeling you get when you have to start breathing the stuff, it's..." Carver shuddered. "It feels like you're not breathing air at all. You suffocate while being able to fill your lungs."

"I went straight to Gerald, after finding a torch. But when the Gloam surrounded us, we had the sense to draw lines in the dirt pointing towards the next wall. You have to, because you can't see through the Gloam at all. It lasted us long enough that we could follow the irrigation trenches."

"We walked hard, much as we could, but a three hour march through dirt is hard on a ten-year-old boy. I'm not sure how long it was before I had to carry him to keep us moving, but I'm pretty sure that hour of rest he got in my arms saved my life," Carver mused, as he leaned forward and set his hands on his desk.

"The torch only lasted three hours. The Gloam took us almost immediately as the torch winked out, like it was just waiting for that to happen. I went down like a sack of bricks, but Gerald, he was fine."

"That's when you realized he could craft," Tabitha said.

"By the eternal abyss and its fires, right when I saw that, I've never been so happy," Carver Raeth said, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "I knew he'd make it. Don't remember much of what happened after, but the soldiers on the watch at the next wall explained it to me. They found me alive and breathing, with my son using his own coat, rolled-up, as a torch. It seems I only collapsed about two hundred yards from the wall," Carver finished explaining.

"That's an unusual way to discover a potential," Tabitha admitted. "It's usually the lure of the flame or a revelation of our awareness. I've never heard of a potential being discovered that way."

"His childhood died out there. He threw himself into his studies after that point. The tutors flocked to us, and started reorganizing the schools in the area. We've never had such a well-educated group of kids entering the labour force out here. I actually have Bureau recruiters passing through here," Carver laughed.

Suddenly, the man's laughter vanished from his face. His expression turned stone-hard, the edges of his mouth twisted in anger, and his hands clutched at the sides of his desk. "Now, Madam Crafter, would you do me the courtesy of telling my why you're looking for my son?"

Mathias interjected, saying "we have-"

"Been very careful to give me half-truths, and gone out of your way to offer me reassurances. I get enough of that to recognize when someone's trying to keep something from me," Carver Raerth said. "How about you tell me why I shouldn't think you're threatening him?"

Mathais began to speak, but Tabitha cut him off with a wave of her hand. "He deserves the truth. I'm fairly certain he won't speak of it."

Tabitha took a deep breath, and said, "I have a project I want to make him a part of."

Tabitha risked a quick glance to Mathias and was impressed to find his face impassive, with only a hint of surprise showing in his expression. Exactly the surprise of a shadow witnessing a Crafter step over the usual bounds of custom.

"You're willing to tell him about your airships?" Mathias asked.

"It's not a secret yet. And I keep forgetting that a Crafter's attention can be a frightening thing. The man is concerned for his son, and we're lying to him," Tabitha replied to Mathias. "I would not take a threat to any of my apprentices lightly, either."

"Forgive me, Crafter a'Loria, but did he say 'airships'?" Carver asked.

"He did. I'm still testing concepts, but your son's graduation paper impressed me enough that I want him working on this project. I won't live forever, and this project might need more years than I have to give," Tabitha explained.

Carver Raeth sat impassively for a long moment, a tense handful of seconds that Tabiha let pass in silence. It was broken by Mathias, who said, "Welcome to every day of my life, mister Carver. I spend my working hours following an eccentric, bored crafter around the City. Do you have any tea?"

"I do, actually. An odd mixture of weeds that grew in the most recent reclamation project. It's mint heavy, so consider yourselves warned," Carver Raeth said. He opened a small jar and slid it towards her.

"Mister Raeth, I haven't told you my name," Tabitha remarked, as she took the jar and took a slow, deep breath through her nose. The mint inside had a smokey smell, unusual for a tea, but it was intriguing, and she left it under her nose for a long moment.

Carver Raeth, in the meantime, had brought a small pot of water, and a thick rag. He set the rag on the table, and handed her the pot. "Madam Crafter? If you would?"

Tabitha took the water an placed her hand on the bottom. She applied her will carefully, letting the pot climb to a gentle boil just as Carver Raeth sat back down with three cups.

"Among other things, Gerald talked about prospective masters, for the second part of his apprenticeship. Your name featured prominently. And how many tall, red-haired crafters can there be in the City?" Carver explained as he measured out a large spoonful of tea.

"I haven't had many apprentices," Tabitha noted.

"Apparently Crafter Estoban had taught him, how did he put it, the intricacies of using a great many different crafts at the same time. He mentioned that she spoke very highly of you, madam Crafter," Carver Raeth explained.

Tabitha smiled, despite herself. It would never matter how high Theo rose, or how impressive Brenda's feats of strength in the Craft might awe the Guild council. Coraline Estoban remained, in her own eyes, Tabitha's greatest success. Her singular labours in ammunition manufacturing was worth a hundred crafters. One of every forty Valkyrie rounds that would be fired in the Sixth came from her work.

Mathias poured the three of them tea while they spoke, and just as Carver finished speaking, raised his cup in the air and said, "to an apprentice, as soon as we find him."

Tabitha raised the cup and took a small sip, regretting knowing what she now knew.