The Distant Legend
Chapter One Panagiotis Doukas, a typesetter with a revoked tavern license and hands that smelled permanently of iron gall ink, stood in the damp cellar of the printing house in the off-season village. The air hung with the rot of dead reeds from the delta outside, a scent that clung to the back of the throat. I held the cracked glass vial in my left hand, its weight a dull ache against my palm,...
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