The Golden Circuit
Bozena Kolar had always believed that gold was the only currency that did not rot. The sleet hit the canvas of the tent with a sound like dry peas striking a tin bucket. It was the year 1347, or perhaps 1348, the dates had blurred in the mud of the Carpathian foothills, but the cold was precise. It bit through her wool, through her skin, and settled into the marrow of her bones with the...
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