The Golden Circuit
The ledger had forty-two entries, and Thorne counted them twice, the ink still wet on the last line. It was a cold night in the outpost, the kind where the damp creeps into the joints and settles there, a weight that no fire could dislodge. He held the page under the single bulb of his office, the light humming a low, electric note that seemed to vibrate in his teeth. Outside, the wind stripped...
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