The Golden Quest
Act I Fatima Garba had not slept in three days, and the taste of copper was so persistent in my mouth that I could no longer distinguish it from the rust of the old iron pipes that lined the walls of the watchtower, a structure that stood alone on the high moor where the wind had no shelter for miles and the lake ice cracked all night with a sound like breaking bones. I was the dyer, the one...
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