Every city keeps a few men whose whole profession is putting things out. Ours used to be the lamplighters. Since C.Y. 427, Orienne has kept a second sort, who come round at night with a brass pole and a cart waiting in the street.

Every public building in Orienne has one desk where the difficult people are sent. At the Registry of Title it’s the Ward desk, and the clerk behind it wants your whole name, spelled right, and your hat off.

Every office in Orienne comes with something underneath it. Archie Plume's comes with a pharmacy, a coffee pot that is not for customers, and a man named Henri (ON-ree, not HEN-ree) who never asks what is in the files.

Once a year, all of Orienne goes down to the Quiet Blocks to whitewash the tombs and say the names of its dead out loud. Archie Plume on the lime, the everlastings, the Naming at sundown, and what the Ward believes happens to a name nobody says.