The Pale Garden
The chisel bit into the limestone with a sound like a bone snapping, and Elias Thorne did not pull his hand back, though the vibration traveled up his forearm and settled in the marrow of his elbow like a cold stone. He was thirty-two years old, a master mason of the Guild of St. Jude’s, and he had come to the isolated Abbey of St. Jude in the autumn of 1348 to finish the crypt’s final vault, a...
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