"“You can tell?” I asked faintly.
“I taught Charis how to make a decent eyeball,” Morlock grumbled. He unrolled the sheet in his hand and glanced at it, adding, “The life-scroll isn’t in his handwriting. And the stupid thing couldn’t even speak properly. Not the product of the establishment’s greatest wonder-worker.” “But maybe,” I guessed, “the chief assistant master thaumaturge-in-training?”
“Exactly,” Morlock approved. “Thend: get him.”"
4 out of 5
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