The Golden Suspect
The bell above the door did not ring. It screamed. It was a high, thin sound, like a nail dragged across a slate roof. You flinched. Your hands, stained with the black soot of the forge, trembled against the anvil. The hammer lay still. The coal fire in the corner hissed, a dry, rattling breath. "Master Alden?" The voice came from the shadows of the alley. A boy. Thin as a reed. His eyes were...
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