The Faded Frontier
"You will not finish it before the solstice." Maryam Zandi did not look up from the annealing oven. The heat pressed against her forearms, a physical weight that made the skin prickle and sweat. Beside her, Master Farhad stood with his arms crossed, his breath fogging in the cold air of the workshop. He was an old man, his joints stiff with the particular ache of those who have bent over hot...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews