The Pale Bonsai
The letter lay on the workbench, its wax seal cracked, the ink still smelling of the damp cellar where the Imperial chancellery kept its supplies. I read it twice, my fingers tracing the embossed crest of the Emperor, a double-headed eagle with a mouth full of teeth. It was a reminder, or perhaps a threat, that the Astrolabe was due for the birthday gala in three days, and that the penalty for...
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