The Pale Circus
The ledger sat on the trestle table, its spine cracked and bleeding ink, and I counted the entries for the third time before I looked up at the Prior. There were forty-two lines in the column marked "Miscellaneous Expenses," and the forty-third was a blank space where a silver clasp should have been recorded, a small, heavy thing that had once fastened my master’s cloak, now missing from the...
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