Every book I’ve ever written has resulted in a debt of gratitude to many, many people who helped along the way, and this one is no exception. In no particular order, I’d like to thank:
Marlene Stringer, my agent, for unfailing encouragement and support.
James Sutter, my editor, for incisive and thoughtful comments, and for pointing out ever-so-gently when I might perhaps have dropped the ball on a few (dozen) continuity errors.
Dave Gross, who E-V-I-S-C-E-R-A-T-E-D an early draft of this manuscript and thereby saved the final version from plunging straight off the Cliffs of Despair. To the extent that this story works at all, it’s in large part because he was willing to whack its machinery with a great big mallet until it got back on track and resumed chugging along.
All the rest of the Pathfinder Tales gang for being a wonderfully entertaining bunch of miscreants who make it so much fun to play around on Golarion.
Isabelle Lee, for helping me keep the canon and game rules straight, and for giving Sechel a sweet pair of bifocals.
Pongu and the Crookydog, for forcing me out of my own head and out for walks every once in a while.
… and Peter, for not taking it too personally when I make inarticulate angry noises and slam the door at him because this stupid sentence is not coming out right. (Also, for procuring comic books for me on request, even though I still won’t read Miracleman.)
Thanks, guys. You are, collectively, The Best.