The Golden Master
Chapter One Chang’an moved in the slow, grinding rhythm of commerce, a city of ten thousand carts where the smell of horse dung and roasted chestnuts hung heavy in the air, and within that vast, indifferent machinery, Ivana Sargsyan sat in the back room of a pawnshop, her fingers stained with ink that would not wash out. She was forty years old, a scholar of the obscure, and she wanted to...
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