The Pale Tower
Chapter One Willis Cavett, fifty-eight, stood at the edge of the terrace row in Melbourne, watching the mortar crumble between his fingers like dry rot. The wind off the Yarra was sharp enough to cut, a physical fact that bit into the knuckles of a man who had spent forty years shaping stone. He was a master mason, a title that meant little now that his hands shook with a tremor that no amount...
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