The Distant Joke
The brass caliper in Elias’s hand was cold, its jaws clamped around a hairline fracture in the obsidian anchor stone, a flaw that had widened by a fraction of a millimeter since the last census. He adjusted the screw, the metal biting into the rock with a sound like a tooth cracking under pressure, and watched the needle tremble against the glass face. The light in the Guild chamber was thin...
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