The Golden Farce
The ledger entry was simple, written in ink that had dried too quickly, leaving a jagged scar on the paper: Chalice, ceremonial. Alloy: Gold, tin, and the red dust of the fen. Due: Three days. Penalty: The shop. Mildred Zorn sat in the damp dark of her workshop, the bronze mirror polished to duty resting on the workbench before her. It was forty-two years old, and she was forty-two, and the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews