The Pale Mist
The ink is wet, Elias, and it will not dry until you sign, so do not stand there shifting your weight as if you are waiting for the horse to return. You set down the satchel, the leather stiff with the cold of the journey, and look at the man behind the desk. Magistrate Aldous Vane is not what you expected from a man who holds the power of a town in his palm; he is small, precise, and his hands...
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