The Pale Fracture
Chapter One "Who else knows the name?" the apprentice asked, his eyes fixed on the rusted bird gun leaning against the crate of confiscated linens. Muhammad Khalil did not answer. He was forty years old, his body a map of aches from thirty years of service as an Enforcer, yet he felt lighter than he had in a decade. The air in the Old Quarter was thick with the dry thunder of no rain, a...
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