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Voss, who kept keys in his pockets like promises, offered Juq a proposition. The Archive had resources and maps that never reached the surface. In return for a small service—retrieving a book from a district where records and memories blurred—Voss would allow Juq a single apprenticeship. “You can learn to read what the city hides,” he said. “Not on paper, but in the way people misplace things.”

He also learned the small, dangerous edges. The city had corners where the law kept to the soft side of its teeth. There were people whose names were numbers and numbers that had names. Juq kept his wrist turned so the 123 was hidden under his sleeve. He had learned, from the inked code beneath his skin, that his past was a string of doors, some locked with keyholes he didn’t know how to pick. juq123 new

Then, one evening of low cloud, Juq’s compass swung directly toward his own wrist. Voss, who kept keys in his pockets like