The Soul Furnace
Chapter One The fog came down over London like a shroud, thick and yellow with coal smoke, pressing against the windows of the workshop on Petty France. Thomas Blackwood sat at his father's anvil, staring at the piece of metal he had been hammering for three hours. It was a simple thing—a hinge, really—but he had made it the way his father had taught him, with a rhythm that felt like prayer....
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