The Golden Echoes
Chapter One The market of Ávila hummed with the friction of wool and stone, a low, grinding sound that rose from the tarpaulins snapping in the plateau wind. Dust, fine as flour, coated the tongue of every buyer and seller, settling into the creases of their garments. Encarnacion Zuniga, a junior scribe at the palace, walked past the stalls, his boots crunching on the grit. He was thirty years...
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