The Wistful Throne
Chapter One Zoran Markovic, the horse doctor of the caravan, had spent forty-two years at NineElm Crossing fixing broken bones and bad temperaments, but on this Tuesday in the dry season of 1347, he stood before a crumbling throne in a red desert of iron and spinifex, holding the shattered left hand of his wife, Elara, who had died three days prior. The air smelled of rust and dried blood, a...
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