The Pale Banner
The glass vial trembled in my hand. I am Arthur, fifty-two years old, and I am a royal apothecary. I wanted the Pale Banner. It was a tincture, clear as rainwater, that stopped decay. My hands shook. I held the pipette with a grip that hurt. I needed it to work before the shaking stopped me from working at all. The uncanny thing about the Banner was its cost. It preserved organic matter...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima