The Distant Whispers
The bill was pinned to the door of the servant’s quarters with a rusted nail. It listed debts in a font so small it looked like a swarm of black ants marching across the parchment. Elias read it three times. The total was forty-two silver marks, plus interest. His mother’s lungs were failing, and the hospital in the lower city charged by the hour for air. He folded the paper, tucked it into his...
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