The Wistful Show
Chapter One "You have no standing here, woman," the High Judge intoned, his voice flat as the dried riverbeds outside the court walls. Tirunesh Farah stood before him, her hands resting on the table, feeling the grain of the wood splinter against her palms. She was forty years old, a translator for the palace, and she knew the weight of a word in three languages, yet in this room, her tongue...
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