The Distant Legend
Chapter One The looms in the old quarter clattered in a rhythmic, dry percussion that shook dust from the beams of the silk houses, a sound that had defined the city’s pulse for centuries before the state began to count the threads. I am Leszek Piotrowski, a master engraver who once cut gold for the palace, and I woke this morning with the taste of iron in my mouth, my hands trembling as I...
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