The Distant Nightmare
The cellar held seven jars of medicinal honey, each weighing precisely two pounds of amber weight, and Brother Elias counted them three times before the fever took the numbers from his mind. He was thirty years old, a scribe of high intellect and fragile constitution, and the winter of 1342 was not a season but a siege. The monastery of St. Jude’s was sealed, its windows boarded against the...
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