The Distant Cartograph
The bell rang. It was a dull, bronze sound that seemed to vibrate in the teeth. Elara did not look up. Her hands moved over the parchment. The ink was still wet. She mixed it with water and a pinch of soot. The room smelled of damp wool and old paper. "Elara," said the voice behind her. It was low. It was smooth. It had the weight of a stone dropped into a deep well. She stopped. The quill...
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