The Wistful Cipher
Who is the man who smells of burnt sugar? Chapter One The fog rolled off the docks, thick as wet wool, swallowing the cranes and the waiting men. Usman Beg stood on the wet cobblestones, his breath a small, sharp cloud in the grey air. He was a constable, or had been, until the ink on his file turned red. The scent hit him then, cloying and cold, the ghost of a burnt toffee left too long on a...
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