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work on book 2, also redo of the book title, and code name for Phelan

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Phillip Tarrant
2026-03-16 13:23:32 -05:00
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chapters/book1/ch11-final.md
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@@ -74,9 +74,9 @@ He led me through a hallway where a younger girl — seven or eight — sat on t
Calla Floundry met me at the front room door. She had the organized posture of someone who'd processed grief and moved to action — spine straight, hands steady, eyes that had done their crying weeks ago and decided crying wasn't solving anything. Mid-forties. Dark hair pulled back efficiently. She wore practical clothes, not mourning dress — function over signal. But the skin under her eyes was dark with exhaustion, and her fingers, when she extended her hand, had the faint tremor of someone running on will rather than rest.
(*The alias. You were supposed to have an alias for client interactions. Ledger told you to pick one. That was — five days ago? You've been staring at house plans and analyzing bracelets and you forgot to pick a name. She's looking at you. She's extending her hand. You need a name. Now. Something. Anything. The Barrows. Verdenshade. Shade — dark, low-growing, thrives where nobody else looks. One word. Ledger is one word. Shade. Fine. It'll do.*)
(*The alias. You were supposed to have an alias for client interactions. Ledger told you to pick one. That was — five days ago? You've been staring at house plans and analyzing bracelets and you forgot to pick a name. She's looking at you. She's extending her hand. You need a name. Now. Something. Anything. Locks. Curses are locks. You pick locks — find the flaw, work the mechanism, open what shouldn't open. Locksmith. One word. Ledger is one word. Locksmith. Fine. It'll do.*)
"Shade," I said, taking her hand. "Guild of Necessary Services."
"Locksmith," I said, taking her hand. "Guild of Necessary Services."
The name felt odd in my mouth — new, untested, like a coat I'd grabbed off the wrong hook on my way out the door. But it fit well enough. I'd picked worse things under pressure.