The Distant Journey
The pendulum swung with a heavy, greasy thud against the brass casing. Arthur Vane counted the seconds. One. Two. Three. The tick was sharp, a needle pricking the air of the Great Hall. The tock was dull, a muffled impact against the floorboards. He had been counting for an hour, his fingers stained black with oil, his eyes burning from the strain of holding a jeweler’s loupe over the...
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