The Pale Tower
It is not the wind, Elara, Julian said, tapping the load-bearing wall with the heel of his hand as if checking the ripeness of a fruit. You are projecting your anxiety onto the masonry. I have seen this house for thirty years, and it has held. I have seen this house for thirty years, and it has held. The sentence hung in the air, thick and dry, while the low hum that had been vibrating in the...
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