The Faded Alibi
"Put it down, Silas." Silas did not put it down. He held the brass astrolabe in his left hand. The metal was warm. It had been in his pocket for three days. It was heavy. He felt the weight of it in his wrist. "It’s a beautiful thing," Silas said. His voice was rough. Like gravel under a boot. "It’s stolen," Thomas said. Thomas stood by the door. He wore a grey coat. The coat was clean. Too...
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