The Golden Quest
The rain had not stopped for three days. It fell on the slate roofs of Ashworth. It fell on the cobblestones. It fell on you. You are a maker of bells. This is your trade. You know the weight of bronze. You know the temperature of fire. You know the sound of silence before the strike. You carry the bell. It is small. It is old. The bronze is green with age. It is worn smooth by hands that are...
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