The Distant Clue
The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a fine, gray mist that smelled of wet stone and old iron. In the village of Oakhaven, which existed in a time that had no name but felt older than the mud roads and the thatched roofs, the people lived by a code written in blood. To speak against the Law was to break the bone. To question the Judge was to break the spirit. Thomas Ashworth was...
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