The Distant Cartograph
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed against the windowpane of the manor house, a relentless, greasy film that blurred the world outside into a smear of grey mud and dying leaves, while inside, in the vast, echoing silence of the library, Julian Thorne stood with his back to the door, his hands trembling not from cold but from the violent, sudden knowledge that the map he had spent...
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