She looked into the alcove where Amelia slept. The tattered thick mat that served as a mattress was empty, yet the hooded candle still burned, and she spotted a pile of her scavenged parchments lying nearby. She called out again, putting the bread on a relatively clean spot of the ground where it wouldn’t be covered in dust shaken from the rafters by the work happening above them. “Where in Tartarus did she get off to?”