The woman’s voice is meek and gentle. If she had said anything else, I wouldn’t have thought for a second that she was a threat. She didn’t, though. She said that Isaak Crowin had commanded me to come speak with him.

I walk over to the door and peek through the peephole. The voice belongs to a woman with short, well-kept, dark hair. She wears a small red dress and large hoop earrings. Her face seems expertly decorated, as if she were an extremely valuable ...