The Wistful Mirror
Chapter One The counting room of the merchant house smelled of wet wool and the metallic tang of old copper, a scent that clung to the back of the throat long after the door was shut. Outside, the fog on the Swahili coast had burned off by ten, leaving the high desert test range next door stark and white under a sun that felt like a physical weight on the shoulders. I stood before the mirror in...
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