“Crake ignored him and concentrated on the skeleton key in the lock. The thralled daemon was singing faintly in his hand at a pitch that he could sense rather than hear. Using the tooth last night, followed by an insidious day-long hangover, had worn him down. It was harder than usual to make the key do its job. The Cap’n glanced around uncomfortably. ‘Someone’s gonna come.’ ‘Will you please shut up?’ Crake asked. No one needed to tell him to worry about getting caught. Crake had an ingrained te...rror of authority born from a lifetime of strict social rules and regulations. Frey cursed to himself and flapped around, beating off the autumn chill. The slashes along the back of his greatcoat were letting in the cold air. Silo watched him without obvious emotion. Towering above them in the darkness were the imposing walls of the Mentenforth Institute building. Its pillared front entrance looked out onto one of the most expensive streets in Thesk, but they weren’t at the front entrance.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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