The Golden Master
Farah Yousafzai, a forty-year-old master clockmaker whose license had lapsed three winters ago, stood in the cooling room of the old department store, his breath fogging the air with the damp chill of the drying wind that split the fruit on the hills. He was there to repair the Great Bell, a task that required the guild’s funding, which in turn depended on the town’s solvency, a ledger that...
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