The Golden Compass
Chapter One Who has the right to judge the weight of a bone? Yaa Boateng, forty-two, the Palace’s Chief Archivist, asked the question to the silence of his office, a room that smelled of mildew and the sharp, metallic tang of old ink. He held the Golden Compass in his left hand, its brass casing worn to a dull, skin-like smoothness by centuries of royal fingers, while his right hand, stained...
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