The Pale Dance
Chapter One “You have the look of a man who has swallowed a stone, Lamyai.” I kept my eyes on the ink, the black liquid pooling in the well of my pen like a small, dark eye watching me back. Master Kru did not look at me. He was arranging his papers, the rusted barrel of his old bird gun leaning against the window frame behind him, a piece of scrap iron that had seen better days. The light in...
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