The Faded Dust
The first thing the new registrar, a man with a face like a bruised plum and eyes that darted about a room as if searching for a hidden exit, noticed about Elias Vane was not his face, nor his trembling hands, nor the way his shoulders seemed to collapse inward as if he were trying to disappear into the hollow of his own spine, but the garment he wore, a heavy, double-breasted coat of deep...
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