Behind the Backdoor is a place that appears on no survey and in no deed. In the old tongue it is the lace sewn between two pieces of cloth. Archie Plume on the golden rooms, what he has measured there, the one closed door, and what to do if he does not come back.

Archie Plume calls them gifts because he has no record of paying for them. The glove, the Imprint, the Gleaning, and the golden rooms that open in the air whenever he uses them.

No council ever named her a saint. The Ward did. Archie Plume on the ferrywoman of the Bend, her lantern, and the chapel on Cistern Street that is never locked.

Nine families, two guilds, and one signature scraped from every copy. Archie Plume on how the Sable Charter was founded, where it was really signed, and the name nobody will read aloud.

Cold crates in August, silver that turns to lead, a tomb with one name fewer. Unverified reports from Orienne, kept in pencil until they become one thing or the other.

The principal port of the Sable Charter, built on ground never entirely persuaded to be solid. A tour of its seven districts, from the Landing to the Quiet Blocks, by the investigator who lives above the pharmacy.

A river with a country attached to it. Archie Plume on the four regions of the Sable, the Charter with one signature scraped away, and the ancient stones that point somewhere other than the water.