The Distant Clue
The ink was still wet on the parchment when the first blow landed, a heavy, wooden thud that vibrated through the floorboards and up into the soles of my boots, shattering the fragile silence of the scriptorium where I had spent the better part of three winters hunched over the crumbling vellum of Saint Aldhelm’s treatises. I did not look up, for I had learned long ago, under the stern and...
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