The Distant Joke
Act I The taste of the liniment was still on Maaike de Vries’s tongue when she looked back at the ruin, a phantom flavor of camphor and old iron that had nothing to do with the salt air of the polder, yet she knew with the certainty of a knife’s edge that the tower would fall before the thaw was fully through. She had spent the last three days climbing the interior stairs, her boots slipping on...
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