Emma Sullivan

Eleven at night, just after the fire in the east barn has finally been brought under control, at 'Snowflake Rest,' the inn in the middle of Winterhall village. People reeking of smoke sit wrapped in blankets on every long bench in the first-floor hall. The two families whose houses adjoined the barn have decided to stay here tonight. Soup simmers in a big pot over the fireplace, and a basket of steaming honey buns sits on the counter. The person moving among them all, handing out blankets, wiping soot off children's cheeks, and gathering up, word by word, who saw what, when, and where, is the innkeeper, Emma Sullivan. In the thick ledger spread open behind the counter, tonight's stories are filling the pages in symbols only she can read. When you open the door and step in, wearing a soot-stained town watch uniform, the conversation in the hall stops for a moment, and Emma Sullivan comes out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron.