A short time later, Graham sat on the same chair Martin had first seen him on, holding a block of ice to his bruised hand. Oliver had returned to the shop when he realized Graham wasn’t coming to the grocer's, only to be sent back to purchase the ice. He managed to bring several of Will's crew with him. However, they were all quickly sent away by Lily, who declared that Graham needed some peace.

  Between sobs of pain and humiliation, Graham admitted to the whole story. The realtor that his family had been renting from for years was thinking of ending his lease. He claimed that Graham was getting later and later with the regular payments, and as he didn’t have a wife or kids, the property lease would end with him. A glassblower had recently approached the realtor about renting a property. As glassblowing didn’t involve the same odors that Graham’s tallow candles did, and the glassblower had children starting to apprentice with their father, one day to take over, to the realtor, it seemed like a much safer bet for the future of his property.

  Graham had seen Lily on a couple of dates, but as far as Lily was concerned, it was nothing serious. He was, as she said, a sweet fool. She was, however, the kindest date he had been on in his life, and in his head, that had spiraled into something more. Stressed out from the threat of losing his home and driven by the chance to finally have something he had always wanted, a family, he kidnapped her.

  Will had insisted they go to the police immediately, but Lily talked him out of it.

  “He didn’t touch me at all. He just kept me in his room.” She said, “He cooked for me and let me bathe regularly, keeping himself outside the room, of course. With the exception of the whole kidnapping thing, he was a perfect gentleman.”

  Martin and Will had exchanged a very concerned look at that, but Lily insisted she did not want the police called and would refuse to testify. In the end, they could only shrug their shoulders and take Lily home. Lily would claim that she had returned to her parents’ house in the country on account of the sudden death of an aunt, and Graham, if asked why he was replacing a solid wooden table, would claim he had bumped into it while drunk. Lies and alibis tentatively agreed on, there was nothing left to do but take Lily home. Martin asked Will to do it so he could have a final word with Graham.

  That word involved a theatrical flourish of his Faceless Dagger and a promise that he would be watching, but Martin left a few moments later, cautiously optimistic that Graham had learned his lesson. He began to walk back to his own house, lost in thought. He was relieved Lily had been found safe—he had feared she had met one of the many tragic endings Alderbridge offered for the poor—but he was in a way disappointed by the ending. As he walked back, he realized part of him had been hoping for a chance to apply his training and gain a sense that he had been progressing, but in the end, just a few chance encounters had led to a fight with a man, although big, that wasn’t much worth fighting with.

  As he approached his house, he heard footsteps running behind him. He was tired and off guard, but didn’t neglect the fundamentals of his training and turned around, prepared to defend himself if necessary.

  “Hoy, Martin,” came the call, just as he turned.

  He saw Will running towards him down the street and let his body relax slightly.

  “What’s wrong, Will? Did something else happen with Lily?”

  “No, no. She’s back safe with the other matchstick girls.” Will slowed his pace as he approached and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

  Martin gave him a moment, curious why Will would run all this way after him.

  “Well, we’ve faced death together, haven’t we?” Will said, straightening up.

  “I’m not sure I would call that—”

  “We’re real brothers now, Martin,” Will said, cutting off any objections. "Thanks for your help. I’m glad Lily was safe.”

  Martin decided to accept it. Although he was still mourning the loss of his real family, Will was a good kid, and he felt proud to share that connection with him.

  “Of course," Martin said, holding out his hand for a shake. "I am as well. Now what brings you running after me?”

  “We didn’t really get a chance to do our reading lesson this week on account of the investigation, so I thought—”

  “Listen, Will. It’s been a long night. I’m not sure I’m up for a lesson at the moment.”

  “Just a moment, please, Martin. I have something I want to show you.” Will reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an ancient-looking envelope. “This is one of my prized possessions, and I want you to have a look at it.”

  Will reached out and offered the envelope dramatically with both hands. Martin took it gingerly. The envelope was clearly ancient, but had been made of high-quality paper and had been well-kept, so it still felt solid to the touch. Regardless, Martin held it carefully as he walked over towards a street light. Evening had just fallen, and the lamp lighters had been through only a few moments ago to light the lamps. The sight of the lamplighter had brought Nate back to mind, but Martin did his best to let those thoughts go.

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  Once settled under the light, he slowly removed the letter from the envelope and unfolded the worn paper. As he unfolded them, the pages cracked softly under his touch. The ink was faded but still legible. It was written in the High Tongue, with a traditional syllabary that had been phased out by imperial edict centuries ago in favor of the much simplified modern alphabet. It was intended as an educational reform to make reading more accessible to the masses, and had seen some success. The High Tongue characters still held on in some fashion, mostly through the church and official notices regarding the royal family.

  As he looked over the characters, Martin was surprised to see he could slowly read them. He took it as yet another sign that his previous identity indeed had some connection with the church, as he couldn’t think of another reason for familiarity with the characters, unless there was some noble blood inside of him. Martin became so engrossed in the characters that he didn’t at first realize Will was talking to him.

  “Can you read it, Martin?” Will was asking.

  “I…I can.”

  “No way. How? Nevermind, what does it say?”

  “It says…” Martin took a quick look around to see if there was anyone nearby before looking down and beginning to read in a halting voice, stumbling a bit over some of the more obscure characters.

  “My dearest Robert,

  I hope this letter finds you safe.

  The church has started another round of purges. After [ink blot] was revealed to be a servant of the Clockwork God, they’re ready to burn anyone who even thinks of straying from the True Creator’s grace.

  But I shall not turn my back on our Lord.

  The new cathedral in Alderbridge is proceeding on schedule. As its supervisor, I’ve had unrestricted access to the maps of the old town. In those maps, I’ve discovered a long-forgotten service station from when the sewer systems were new. I’ve visited it myself, in the dead of night when only rats and creatures of nightmare are awake, but it is safe enough. Over the past few months, I’ve been slowly repairing the room with a few trustworthy servants. I’ve been stocking it with my library and the necessary tools to continue our work.

  The fires of the church burn brighter and ever nearer. Soon I will be found out. I must escape before then! There is too much still to be done!

  Below is a guide to find where I have hidden.

  Forgive me, it is encrypted, for I trust very few these days, and even trusted messengers can be subject to undue influences.

  But I trust you Robert, and I have faith in your abilities.

  Come to Alderbridge and find me. Our work must go on.

  Your fellow servant,

  [ink blot].”

  Will and Martin were silent for a moment, processing what they had just read. Martin wondered who this Robert must be, and why he had escaped being smudged by the other names. There was only one cathedral in Alderbridge. It had towered over the city for centuries, but Martin couldn’t remember ever hearing who had designed it.

  Finally, Will broke the silence with a cry of excitement. “Can you believe it, Martin? A secret lair right under our feet! And tools to continue our work? It has to be money, or at least something valuable. This is just what I’ve been looking for.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This letter is ancient. If the man is who he says he is, then he has to have been dead for nearly three hundred years, as that’s when Alderbridge Cathedral was completed.”

  Will deflated slightly. “Well, it's still worth a look, ain’t it?”

  “I’m not saying it’s not,” Martin replied, softening slightly upon seeing the look on Will’s face. “Look, I’m not saying I’m not just as excited as you are, but a long time has passed since this letter was written, and any number of things could have happened. Not to mention, I have some experience with sticking my nose into the mysteries of the past. It seldom ends up the way you hope it will.

  “You’re right,” Will said. “You sure do know your stuff. Come to think of it, I don’t know many soldiers who are all that literate, especially in ancient languages. How do you know all this, Martin?”

  “I,” Martin hesitated, wondering how much to share. After a moment, he decided that since Will had shared his treasure with him, he deserved some measure of truth. “I saw some things back in the day that did something to my mind, things that are better left unsaid. I have very little memory of back then. I quite genuinely do not know how I know how to read this.”

  “Hmmm. Well, maybe some book in this library will have the key to bringing your memory back.”

  “Would that it did.”

  “So… we are looking for it, right?”

  Martin hesitated just a moment, again thoughts drifting to consulting Jacques and Aelar, but he didn’t need to run to them for everything. He had taken care of Graham, and he could take care of this as well.

  “Yes,” Martin decided, his resolve firming. “We’ll search for the entrance. But we have to be careful, Will. If this place has remained hidden for so long, there’s no telling what we might find.

  Will’s grin was all the answer Martin needed. The boy’s adventurous spirit was undimmed by the thought of any potential dangers. The two made plans to meet again on Martin’s next day off, and Will allowed Martin to hold on to the letter for now. Martin slipped it carefully into his jacket pocket and said goodnight to Will.

  He resumed his trip back home, his thoughts borne back into a past he couldn’t remember, trying to connect ancient characters, Alderbridge history, and the looming specter of the Church of the True Creator. As he continued on this quest, he couldn’t help but wonder if the purge the writer had mentioned might one day come for him.