The Golden Visit
Act I Padma Fernandes pressed the shuttle into the warp, the wood slick with the sweat of her palms, the movement a desperate counterweight to the humming in her teeth. She was twelve, though the ledger on the desk beside the loom recorded her age as a liability, a decimal point in the equation of her mother’s debt. The Guild Master’s office smelled of dried lavender and iron filings, a scent...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews