The Distant Joke
The wind off the steppe had teeth that morning, biting through the wool of Fatemeh Jafari’s cloak as she waited in the ferry queue, the cold settling deep in her joints like a damp stone. She was thirty-two, a scribe in the Iron Court, and her life had narrowed to a single, grinding task: transcribing the Distant Joke to buy her brother Ravi’s freedom from the debt prison. The merchant’s...
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