The Golden Mirror
Chapter One I was counting the wampum beads on the table when the light shifted, turning the dust motes into a slow, golden suspension. My fingers were stained with ink from the surveyor’s ledger, the black dye seeping into the whorls of my nails as I tallied the treaty-deep string of shell. The harbor quarantine hut smelled of brine and rotting kelp, a physical fact that sat in my throat and...
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