15: Deva
Deva
Although it was still early, the museum teemed with activity. Deva heard it long before she set eyes on the building, the clanging and banging of the workers echoing off the soft stonework of the surrounding buildings.
Major renovation work, apparently. Something about the nature of the stone, how the wind and the heat constantly wore it down. As far as Deva could tell, this wasn’t some quick fix. Looked like they were drilling through the stone, inserting supporting girders of metal. Keeping the old look of the place, but giving it a high-tech skeleton.
Like a lattice.
A wide thoroughfare lay before the museum itself, part road and part walkway. As Deva approached a truck rumbled past. She recognised it as a Phlegon—sixteen oversized wheels, the cab high above other v
