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Chapter 67: Smaller coin
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... ity." He did not voice the thought that if the stacks went down, men might go with them. The Archive did not care for flesh; its sympathy lay with paper.
They did not wander. The Index chamber waited three turns down and one short passage up, a room whose floor had been raised to a platform above the wet veins. The door was a circle of bronze set in a stone frame. In its face, a tide-clock’s face repeated: three hands, three rings, a little bell where three marks met. Between the door an ...
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