The Distant Clue
The wax seal was cracked, a jagged fissure running through the crimson disc like a vein of dried blood, and I held it between my thumb and forefinger as if I could smooth the damage with my touch. It was the seal of the Guild of Scribes, the institution that had employed my father and, after his sudden and violent death, had employed me for the last seven years. The letter inside was brief,...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 1 Views 0 previzualizare