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"If testing a potential male Dormant is so uncomplicated," Fenella said. "Get one of your men to wrestle with him until things get aggressive enough for venom production, then a bite, and see what happens. Why make it more complex than it needs to be?"

"Because change is complex," Din said. "Even good change."

Kalugal saluted him with the coffee cup. "You are not wrong, Professor." He put the cup on the table next to the wooden box and put the box in his lap. "Let's see what treasures my team has found."

He pulled out several cloth-covered figurines and started unwrapping them one at a time. Most were simple and not particularly artistic. But one made Fenella's breath catch.

It was a figurine of a girl on the cusp of womanhood, eleven or twelve years old, and she was carved with exquisite detail and painted with care.

The face was serene, beautiful, with elaborately styled dark hair and a gown that seemed to flow despite being made of stone.

Even in miniature, the sculpture radiated a sense of life.

"This one is unlike the others." Max leaned forward for a better look.

Kalugal lifted the figurine, turning it to examine the base. "There's a mark here, but I don't recognize it." He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo. "I'll send this to the Clan Mother. It might be ancient Sumerian or a simple artist's mark."

"What did the dealers say about it?" Ell-rom asked.

"Let's see." Kalugal unfolded a note that had been wrapped together with the figurine.

"The expert Joseph took it to said it was contemporary—beautifully handmade but probably created within the last decade. But looking at it..." Kalugal shook his head. "There's something about it that feels older. Perhaps it's another copy of an original that had been carved much earlier."

"Should I give it a try?" Fenella asked, "Maybe I can see something useful."

Kalugal handed it over, and Fenella cradled it carefully in her palms. The stone was cool, smooth, and seemed to pulse with energy.

When she felt Kyra's hand on her shoulder and Jasmine's on her other side, she took a deep breath to center herself and prepare for their combined abilities to create the amplification she needed.

"Ready?" she asked them.

They nodded, and Fenella closed her eyes, opening herself to whatever impressions the figurine might hold.

The vision came gradually, like fog clearing from a window.

She saw hands—young hands, steady and sure, working with tools on stone.

The hands belonged to a man, though she could only see him from chest to fingers as if she was seeing what he had been seeing as he'd worked.

There was an electric lamp next to him, confirming what the expert had said about the contemporary origins of the figurine, but it was an old and rusted lamp, and the workshop was cramped and dusty.

There was something infinitely sad about the way he carved, though, deliberate but with melancholy. When he paused to examine his work, she got the sense that he was satisfied with his creation, but that profound sadness permeated everything around him, including the beautiful figurine.

Through the workshop's single window, she could see a narrow alley, lined with crumbling stone buildings that looked ancient and decayed. Laundry hung between windows, and somewhere a child cried. It was clearly a poor neighborhood, the kind of place where people scraped by day to day.

The vision faded, leaving Fenella blinking in the bright light of the sitting room. Beside her, Kyra and Jasmine were also coming back to themselves.

"Well?" Kalugal demanded. "What did you see?"

"A young man," Fenella said. "Working in what looked like a very poor area. Old buildings that were falling apart. He was carving with such sadness, like each stroke hurt him."

"I saw the same," Kyra confirmed. "His hands were not only young but also unmarred. That's peculiar for someone in his line of work, which makes me think that he was immortal. And if I'm right, we might have just witnessed Esag working."

"But why would he be living in poverty?" Fenella asked. "With all the natural abilities of an immortal, he could have done better for himself."

"Maybe he's hiding from something," Max suggested. "Or someone."

"Or maybe it's not Esag at all," Din said. "Maybe it's his descendant, someone who inherited the talent and maybe even apprenticed with him. A child born to an immortal male would have been human. Not even a Dormant."

"Why the sadness, though?" Fenella touched the figurine again, feeling an echo of that profound melancholy. "This feels personal, like a loss the carver experienced directly, like the girl was a relative. Maybe a sister of his."

"What about the mark on the base?" Kyra asked. "The Clan Mother might recognize it."

"I've already sent it." Kalugal wrapped the figurine in its cloth, but instead of putting it back in the box, he put it aside. "The Clan Mother should be awake by now, but perhaps she is busy and didn't see my message yet."