The Pale Fracture
Chapter One The kilns in the quarter of Salt Gate thirty-one roared against the damp air, their heat a physical weight that pressed the breath from the lungs of every laborer moving coal carts along the cracked mud. The smoke hung low, a gray blanket that smelled of sulfur and wet ash, coating the thatched roofs of the backwater village in a film of soot. Rajesh Menon stood in the doorway of...
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