The Pale Altar
Who says a man must be whole to keep a record straight? I The grey of October settled over the river county, a physical weight that pressed the water flat against the banks of the sinking cliffs. Lan Wang sat in the customs shed, the air thick with the damp rot of confiscated silk, watching the telegraph operator, Shen, move with a frantic, bird-like speed across the wire. The operator’s...
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