The Pale Altar
Chapter One Hamish Lennox remembered the weight of the sash three days before the inspection, when it first began to bleed black ink into the white wool of his tunic, a stain that smelled of wet iron and old ledgers. He stood alone in the counting house of the distillery, the room cold enough to freeze the breath in his lungs, the scales on the counter ticking softly as the rain hammered the...
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