The Wistful Crossroads
The Wistful Crossroads Alistair Finch had been a mapmaker's apprentice in Oxford all his life, and yet it was the unmapped places that haunted him. His workshop, tucked beneath the eaves of a timbered building on St Aldate's, smelled perpetually of ink and damp wool and the peculiar metallic tang of brass compasses left too long in the rain. He was thirty-two, slight of frame, with fingers...
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