The Distant Temple
The seal is a forgery, the Chancellor said, his voice flat as a slab of river stone. Halina Krawczyk stood in the center of the court, her lungs burning with a wet, rhythmic pain that seemed to echo the dripping of the chandelier above. She held the iron disc with both hands, the metal cold against her palms, while the shadow behind her stretched and thinned, mimicking her posture with a delay...
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