The Distant Temple
The ledger in the High Inquisitor’s office is not a book of law, but a book of arithmetic, and the numbers do not lie. They state, in cold, iron-gall ink, that your sister’s debt is insoluble. You are Elias, a border warden of Oakhaven, thirty years old with hands that know the weight of a sword but not the weight of a coin. You have been here for ten years, watching the line where the forest...
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