The Distant Machine
Act I "You are holding the wrong end of the ledger, Yaw." Kael’s voice was flat, stripped of the deference I had worn like a second skin for six years. I looked up from the desk, my hand still resting on the cold brass of the scale where I had been weighing the river clay amulet, a small, smooth object I had found in the silt last week and kept for the texture of it, the way it held the shape...
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