The Thirteenth Triad
an excerpt

The table was very round, and very smooth, for it was made of glass. It reflected everything, including the fire in the back, and the rain that dripped through the roof a bit. Steffen would have been rather surprised that it hadn’t come over and put the fire out, if he hadn’t been examining the table, running his hands along the iron work that held it up, or toggling the wood that was laced between the bars.