The Golden Visit
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended grey veil that turned the courtyard of the Abbey of Saint Jude into a place of suspended time. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the scriptorium, his back pressed against the cold stone wall, watching the water drip from the eaves. He was a man of few words and fewer desires, a scribe whose hands were stained with ink the color of...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 2 Visualizações 0 Anterior