The Golden Compass
Elias Wren woke with the taste of iron in his mouth. The dream was gone, but the weight of it remained. He lay in the narrow cot, staring at the damp plaster of the ceiling, listening to the rain lash against the leaded glass. Outside, the city of Bristol slept under a shroud of fog and coal smoke. It was the year of our Lord 1348, and the air tasted of sickness. Elias sat up. His hands were...
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