Beneath Ceaseless Skies | The Naming of Knots by M.A. Carrick
“I en’t here for your jokes,” Tseges said, trying to massage his hand without being obvious about it. He couldn’t make up his mind whether to be watery with terror at the audacity of this job, dizzy with disbelief that he was helping the Mask-damned Rook, or pissed that the Rook hardly seemed to be taking any of this seriously. “Let’s get on with it.”
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