In the Tower, Gavagol watched the Flesh Tinker’s strange craft arrow away, leaving a silver wake on the sea. He leaned against the window, his hands pressed to the monomol pane. His human hands.
In the Tower, Gavagol watched the Flesh Tinker’s strange craft arrow away, leaving a silver wake on the sea. He leaned against the window, his hands pressed to the monomol pane. His human hands.