The Faded Road
The carriage wheels groaned against the cobblestones of King’s Cross, a sound like the grinding of old bones in a damp cellar, as Silas Vane pulled his collar tighter against the autumn chill that had seeped through the wool of his coat. He was a man of considerable stature in the trade of rare antiquities, a craftsman of the eye who could distinguish the true luster of a Roman glaze from the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews