The Pale Verdict
Act I Talha Ali’s hands were deep in the silt of the canal bank, hauling the heavy, iron-wrought gate open to release the water into the lower fields. The mud sucked at his boots, a cold, wet weight that pulled at his ankles with every step, and he grunted under the strain, his shoulders burning from the exertion. He was forty-two, a mid-level clerk in the Ministry of Water Resources in...
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