The Wistful Witness
The count began with the quills: forty-two goose, three swan, and one badger-hair stub that Brother Thomas kept in his left sleeve like a talisman. I counted them three times, my fingers numb from the November damp that seeped through the floorboards of the Abbey of St. Jude. The air here tasted of wet wool, stale tallow, and the sharp, metallic tang of iron gall ink, a scent that clung to the...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima