It's Unrise in Stationary Hill, it's morning, in other words.

The vast, inky black wall of the fold is translating slowly, peeling back from the city,

retreating like a vast curtain, exposing the harsh light of the un as it goes.

There's hardly anybody up and about at this hour.

Just a skeleton crew down in the shipyard, the messy tangled docks and warehouses,

down at the base of the hill.

A single, small ship has just arrived here.

It's a strange-looking ship.

The whole side of it is encrusted in a rough, textured, mica-like material.

The other side is flat and featureless.

It's a very skinny, very vertical sort of design,

kind of like a flounder, one of those creepy flat fish with both eyes on one side, meant for hiding in a very

specific, selective kind of environment.

You remember this ship, don't you?

You should.

You've seen it before, or you've at least seen, a ship very much like this one.

But here, out of its element, it just looks awkward. People are disembarking now, being shuttled down the gangway.

They're moving quickly, furtively, being received by a ground crew, moving equally,

equally secretively, and the ship wastes no time immediately, taking wing

again, flitting back upwards, unwards, agile, and fast.

Atticus Concord, who has somehow contrived to be part of this welcoming party today,

he's a con man, that's how.

...