The Golden Cellar
The pen in your hand is a heavy, brass-nibbed instrument, the kind issued to inspectors before the switch to digital tablets, and it sits in your palm like a dead weight. You are Elias Thorne, fifty-two, a senior inspector in the Bureau of Structural Integrity, and you have spent three years trying to kill a room. The target is the sub-basement of the Old Palace, a space of stone and shadow...
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