The Pale Dance
Act I The valley roads were slick with the thaw, a slurry of sawmill mud and rotting leaves that swallowed the wheels of the caravanserai’s supply wagons before the winter solstice feast could even begin, and in that thick, humid air, Talha Qureshi stood at the ferry dock, counting the twenty-three of the Tannery Steps that led up to the guild hall. He was a city guard, a man whose hands were...
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