Somebody kept a workshop at the end of a lane with no sign on it
and made the best chairs in the county for thirty years.

People found it anyway, by word of mouth, eventually, and knocked.
The work was as good as the rumour. Better.

When they died the lane was full of cars and nobody could agree on the name.
The chairs are all still in use. The workshop is a house now.
The skill had never been in question. Only the reach of it.

The Book of the Shadow — Arrival 55:5