Genna's Line

Genna Busterson measures things. Fields, fords, boundary marks, and the exact distance between her own name and her father's, which is the only line in fourteen counties she has never managed to close.

She wants a map. A proper one, engraved, hanging in a county hall, with a line across country nobody believed could be run, and in small italic type: GENNA'S LINE. Not Busterson's. Hers.

Then the ground moves under Marrowell, and Genna does something in the hour after that no witness will swear to and no instrument will corroborate. The county gets its wall back. The road gets a song about a spirit. The state gets a file.

Three novellas in the world of Venicia, about surveying, paperwork, fathers, and the difference between being believed and being let go.