The Pale Banner
Elias. The name was not spoken in anger, but in the flat, exhausted tone of a man who had been shouting for three days. It came from the shadows of the scriptorium, where the candle flames guttered in the draft. I looked up from the vellum. The ink was still wet, a black vein running across the parchment. I had been writing the Duke’s secret orders for six hours. My hand trembled, not from...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior