The Golden Ritual
I. We are all just vessels for the state’s ink. That is what the clerks at the Imperial Archive tell themselves to keep from shaking. I am Ahmad Tehrani, thirty-two years old, and for six years I have polished seals, filed ledgers, and counted the drizzle that falls on the cobblestones before light. My sister Leyla tends our mother’s grave three streets over, in the quarter where the kilns...
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