The Pale Tower
The rain did not fall so much as it was forced into the world by a sky that had lost its capacity to hold back the grey, a relentless, shivering curtain that turned the streets of the old quarter into a mirror of broken, dark reflections where the only moving objects were the wet coats of the men and the heavy, thudding tread of boots on cobblestones that had been soaked through to the stone...
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