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... e mechanisms drawn on them, idly picking at the edge of her missing eye wound. Maryam was a deft hand with charcoal.
“It is not a lock,” the clockmaker said. “It is much too complex for that. That it is a machine is not in doubt, but the manner of machinery it is trips me up.”
Tristan, crouched at her side, hummed as he glanced at the papers. He taken looks at Maryam’s drawings as well but gotten little out of it. He was a lockpicker, this was several miles past his area of exper ...
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