The Pale Meridian
The bell rang. It was a dull sound. Thomas struck it again. The iron clapper hit the rim. A thin cloud of dust rose from the floor. He wiped his hands on his apron. The leather was stiff. It smelled of tallow. Outside, the gate opened. Men walked in. They wore wool. They wore iron. They carried swords. Thomas watched them from the high window. He did not look away. He was a man of the house. He...
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