The Pale Meridian
Chapter One Who was the thief that had stolen the town’s memory, and why did the ledger in Celeste Patin’s hand contradict the official record of the Guild? She stood on the ferry crossing, the mid-river water black and still beneath the hull, the smell of wet rot and gunpowder hanging thick in the air. Celeste, thirty-two years old and missing the pinky on her left hand from a powder-mill...
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