The Golden Circuit
Tariq Laham’s chisel struck the limestone, sending a shard skittering across the wet flagstones of the shrine’s undercroft. The January thaw had turned the mud outside into a slick, treacherous grey, but in here the air was dry and smelled of old dust and the sharp, metallic tang of the votive figure he had propped against the wall. He was an imperial salt official, a title that meant little in...
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