I lined the salvaged plank walls of my room with Father's soul bottles, to remind me of the value of good sense in business and the risks of even the best of ideas. It pleased me to think that some atomie of his essence might be watching over me in my little room, though I tried not to think overmuch on the man himself, blood of my family spread thin on the cobbles of Delator Square.
As their family had nourished layered ambitions, Tomb had never been boxed in his youth and so had become the giant his brother might have been. Dwarves are the secret aristocracy of the City Imperishable, but for the provinces and distant foreigners full-grown men are the best agents. Once he became confident that I knew my letters and numbers as well as any box-raised dwarf and could keep careful track of the right people to bribe -- all skills learned in the early days of my youth -- Tomb was delighted to leave the ongoing details of business in my care.
In my fourth year of service, Tomb relocated to Port
A fantasy story of another place where people are dwarfed by raising them in boxes and servants have their lips sewn shut. Oh, and there's magic.
The hero's father is ruined when he invests all his money in a fad--soul bottles--and the orphaned hero lays aside being rich to become an indentured servant.
Lots of interesting ideas in a somewhat cynical plot. The characters are okay without being striking.
Probably worth your while to read.