Nineteen years old, and Rim has never once paid for anything. He falls forty feet off a gantry and walks away clean. He puts his bare hand on raw Rust and doesn't burn. Every job goes wrong for somebody, every single time, and somehow it is never him. Then a depot job goes bad. The wall comes out. The breach plate comes down. And the girl six feet behind him doesn't make it to the Skip. Three days later an old woman in clean shoes knocks on his mother's door. An auditor. A number that doesn't add up. She says his mother's name with a title in front of it-a title Rim has never once heard in nineteen years of sharing two rooms with her. Somebody has been paying for his life. His luck. His hands. Every year he should have died and didn't. He's about to find out who. What it cost her. And how long they have left before the Order comes to collect. Forty-one days until the Tribunal. Someone has been playing god with Rim's life. It's about to stop being free.