The Distant Temple
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s Institute for the Preservation of Ancient Grains did not smell of dust or age, but of a profound, cloying sweetness, the heavy, fermented perfume of a thousand sacks of emmer wheat breaking down in the dark, a scent that clung to the wool of the tweed jackets worn by the faculty and seeped into the pores of the students who were expected to remain...
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