The Distant Threshold
Act I Who can hold a wall when the wind is inside it? Aleksei Golubev woke with the taste of dry clay in his mouth, the forty-seven of the Bellfounders' Walk still echoing in his dreams as a collapsing tower. He was forty-two, and the war bond he had bought in 1941 had matured into nothing but a scrap of paper that smelled of damp. Outside, the dry wind cracked the courtyard tiles of the...
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