The Wistful Mountain
Act I Dust is the only honest accountant left in the caravanserai. Mohammad Sadeghi knew this because he had spent twelve years inhaling it while he polished the brass fittings of a house that no longer existed. He was thirty-two, a scribe by trade and a debtor by circumstance, and his hands were raw from scrubbing the foundation stones of the old estate, a place that smelled of wet wool and...
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