The Golden Horn
Silas Thorne had not eaten a proper meal in three days, but he sat on his folding stool behind the small wooden sign that read THORNE — ASTROLOGICAL READINGS — in the narrowest of Billingsgate alleys, and he held himself with the stiff dignity of a man who had once calculated the movements of the heavens for earls and dukes.Fifteen years. That was how long the abbey on the Yorkshire moors had...
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