Chapter 39 · for subscribers
Forty years that chimney had been cold and half of it had been under water twice a day. It was smoking at dawn, straight up, in no wind at all, and there was no fire anywhere in the works — the smoke was coming out of a mountain six valleys west, through a brick flue on a mudflat, because a boy on a forge-house floor had taken his fingers off a flagstone.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.