The Distant Clue
Act I The island woke to the grinding of stone against stone, a low, continuous rumble that rose from the thirty-one of the Old Brick kilns still clinging to the eastern shore, where the heat lay so thick on the water that the air itself seemed to shimmer like a mirage. Below the cliff path, the ferry was loading crates of peat and timber, the laborers cursing the sun that did not seem to know...
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