“Utterly ordinary, Eslingen thought, as common as the slates underfoot or the vine putting out new leaves just outside the low window. Not something you’d expect to find embedded in the wall of a Fairs’ Point tavern. He looked at Rathe, who gave a tiny shrug, and looked in turn at Fanier and b’Estorr, who had their heads together at the other empty table. After a moment, the necromancer spread his hands and turned back to the coin, while Fanier returned his glasses to his nose and for good measu...re collected a thick brass-rimmed glass, which he held over the coin. “Nothing,” he said, after a moment, and set the glass down carefully out of the sun. Outside in the hall, the clock struck eleven, and Eslingen grimaced. They’d been at it for two hours, ever since Rathe sent a runner to fetch b’Estorr from the University, and for that entire two hours the coin had lain there unmoving, unaffected, looking more and more ordinary with each pass of hand or tool, each pinch or drop of chemical, each drift of smoke or ash.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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