The Distant Temple
Act I Morag Rollo paid the rent in coins that clinked against the counter, the sound sharp in the thin air. She was thirty-two, and the shroud in her lap was heavier than it had been that morning. The town of Ostrava, a walled settlement of stone and silence, had stopped speaking her name three days ago. They looked through her as if she were a draft under a door. The blacksmith’s son, Callum,...
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