The Golden Master
"Have you checked the ledgers for the third quarter?" The voice came from the shadows at the end of the long, vaulted hall. It was not a shout, nor a demand, but a question that hung in the air with the weight of a stone dropped into a deep well. I looked up from my workbench, where the smell of linseed oil and dried pigments hung thick and cloying, a scent that had permeated my skin and my...
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