The Golden Visit
Chapter One Does a building remember the weight of the hand that built it? Lucien Chevalier stood at the threshold of the archive, the bronze bell in his pocket cold against his hip, and watched the light die behind the velcro flaps of the habitat module. He was thirty-two, a bonded scribe with a debt of bride-price still hanging over his head like the north wind, and he had come to the...
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