The Faded Root
The ink was red. "Is that blood, Margaret?" Vane asked. He did not look at the ledger. He looked at the dust motes dancing in the shaft of light that cut through the window, illuminating the grime on the sill. "It is ink, sir," I said. My voice sounded thin in the large, vaulted room. "A chemical reaction. The Ministry uses a specific tannin blend for the Faded Root archives. It oxidizes when...
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