The Distant Legend
Thorne. The word hung in the air of the workshop, sharp and brittle, spoken by Master Aldous with the same flat contempt he reserved for a misaligned gear or a late invoice. Elias did not look up from the bench, where the skeleton of the Grand Orrery lay under the slanting afternoon light, a complex lattice of brass and steel that had consumed the better part of his life. The light was failing,...
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