The Golden Maze
The rain had not yet begun to fall, but the air in the courtyard of Ostromir tasted of iron and wet stone, a cold that seeped through the wool of Elias Vane’s doublet and settled deep in his joints. He stood before the gate, his satchel heavy with charcoal, vellum, and the brass calipers that defined his profession, while the city master, Lord Aldric, watched him with eyes that held the dull,...
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