The Golden Scar
Werner Becker asked himself, as he strapped the leather satchel to his back, whether a man could be guilty of a crime he had not yet committed, and the answer, like the low cloud hanging over the rice paddies, refused to clarify itself. He was thirty-two, a sergeant in the Iron Diet’s grain enforcement corps, and he was leaving his village at sixty-three of NineElm Crossing to find the Golden...
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