The Distant Journey
Thorne, the clerk called out, not in anger but with the flat, administrative tone of a man reading a ledger, and Elias Thorne stood up from his desk, his knees popping with the dry friction of forty years spent sitting in the same chair, to find the Chief Justice waiting in the anteroom where the air smelled of stale tobacco and the damp, mineral scent of the ancient stone walls that seemed to...
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