Publisher's blurb: Carved deep into the city’s cliff lies a workshop, its walls so thick few sounds can escape. Blood stains its floors and cells littered with soiled straw wait, empty. Cadavers are arrayed on workbenches before a glowing, red machine. Two hidden exits lead outside, where gargoyles leer down at smoke-shrouded houses and market stalls, far below in the valley. Muffled voices bounce off the cliff from the market below. Strong winds whistle through the parapet above, screaming around chimneys and down narrow alleyways. Stores with lichen covered walls sell goods, mingling with homes and consultancies.