The Golden Farce
Act I Entry 4, 12th of the Midsummer Rains: The tithe of memories due for the quarter is listed in the margin of the crown’s tax ledger, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and damp wool. Milo Veth stood in the ferry queue, the rain hammering the tin roof of the shelter with a rhythm that felt less like weather and more like a mechanical judgment, each drop a coin counted against his...
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