The Distant Machine
The hand of Silas Vane did not merely belong to him, for it had been grafted onto the stump of his left forearm in the workshop of the blind alchemist, a prosthetic of such intricate and terrible precision that it could not only grip a quill with the delicacy of a lover’s touch but could also, when the internal springs were wound to their absolute limit, strike with a force that shattered oak;...
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