The Wistful Witness
The bell in the clocktower did not chime, for the clock had been smashed in the first week of the occupation, and the silence that followed was a heavy, wet thing that pressed against the eardrums of everyone in the square. Thomas Vane stood before the great oak doors of the Palace of St. Jude, his hands clasped behind his back in a posture of false calm, his leather apron stained with the dust...
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