The Pale Banner
Chapter One Every machine in the valley hums with a specific, broken note that only the owner hears. I am Tegan Gethings, and I have spent the last three years listening to the hum of the piano moving guild, a franchise that smells of wet wool and old varnish. The spring flood is expected, a physical fact written in the mud on the riverbank, but the water is already high enough to lick at the...
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