Precision is far more important than strength.The Depths are littered with the corpses of the strong.“Wrack and ruin.”Harker slammed his boot into the window frame. It held firm. He kicked it again, this time cracking the frame and sending the glass raining down onto the sill and rooftop outside.“There. Not painted shut anymore.” He slid the window up and crawled out, scrambling across the roofing tiles just as the sliding bolt—and the door—blew off its hinges.With a panicked grunt, Harker tumbled over the roof’s edge, fingers scrabbling for the stone gutter. It groaned beneath his weight, but it held.His fingers were another question entirely. “He’s gone!”“The window is shattered. He must have—”“Could the Stitcher have taken him?”“What for? Think, iyeshi.”“I don’t know!”Slowly, Harker set his feet against a window casement. His (...)