The Distant Blade
Chapter One Brendan Fitzpatrick’s left hand shook as he lifted the stamped jar handle. The tax paid. The clock in the wrong tower struck three, a sound that felt like a crack in the bone. He stood in the staff showers, the steam thick and white, smelling of mildew and iron. He needed the pension. The rent owed to the temple granary was due by moonrise. His comrade, Ciaran, was dead, but his...
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