Fiona Thorne always heard curiosity would be the death of her. It was curiosity that made her poke her nose into her neighbor’s garden when she was young after hearing shouts of anger. This led to her first case: carrot theft. A case she was determined to solve and did moments later, although she let the rabbit get away with it.

Curiosity drove her to meddle in an ongoing investigation over the mysterious disappearance of cacao pods on the farm she and her family had worked. She was promptly accused of the theft and had to clear her name. Catching the real culprit, one she didn’t let off the hook this time, pushed her inquisitiveness even further.

And so, of course, curiosity got her, after many years of listening to the little niggle at the back of her head, to say yes without hesitation to a job she knew little about based on a name alone. And that, she reasoned with herself as brisk wind twisted through the leaves and dark curls of her hair, was why she was clinging to the branches at the top of a tall tree, knowing at any moment she would fall to her death. Curiosity was Fiona’s first love, and she reckoned if the wind got its way, it might be her last.

Calistino was well known for its port arches decorated with crawling vines and carved by well-known artists of the page’s past. The arches denoted the few ports that could be accessed from neighboring cities, keeping it a bustling coastal city for trade and ships. Deep copper water brushed its northern edge, making it easy to navigate to, and canals like wriggling fingers poked into the city, giving ample avenues for traveling throughout it on boat. The walking paths were for everyday use, but it wouldn’t be rare to find someone who used both in the common course of their day. It was a good city to keep as a prominent pagemark for the Court of Copper, and those who cared to track such things knew it.

The Thread housed a large first floor boding ample seating for all body types in the Book (which varied from small and winged to large and elephantine). Its robin’s-egg exterior was edged in white trimming that gave the appearance of delicate lacework draped upon an elaborate dollhouse. That delicacy belied the showroom for performers, quaint guest rooms, private quarters, sitting areas and so on. With a handful of floors and so much space, there had to be more going on here than met her investigative eye.