The Iron Root
The Yorkshire moors swallowed sound the way the Blackstone Mine swallowed men — without ceremony, without farewell. Thomas Blackwood was ten years old when Mr. Huxley bought his indenture for one shilling and two coarse wool blankets. The boy said nothing. He had learned by seven that speech was a luxury the dead could no longer afford. His parents had been taken by the fever in the long winter...
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