The Golden Harbor
The valley woke to the sound of pickaxes striking stone, a rhythmic, dull thud that rolled down the plateau like a slow heartbeat. In the guild town of Atlas, the air was heavy with crushed walnut and wet clay, the industry of the well-diggers keeping the streets alive with the clatter of carts and the sharp calls of foremen. Samir Darwish sat on the edge of his cot, his left knee screaming a...
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