The Pale Verdict
The rain in the Fens does not fall so much as it settles, a persistent, grey weight that presses the water tables higher and the spirits lower, turning the flat landscape into a mirror of mud and sky. Willis Muncy, a well-digger by trade and a debtor by circumstance, stood at the edge of the market stall where secondhand cloth hung in damp, rotting strips, his hands heavy with the clay he had...
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