The Pale Altar
Chapter One In the treaty port of Lahore, the sun does not rise so much as it asserts itself, a heavy, physical fact that presses down on the walled city after nine days of relentless rain. Abdullah Sheikh stood before the polished brass gauge of the textile mill’s boiler, his breath misting in the cold air, and watched his own reflection mimic his gesture with a delay of half a second. He...
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