The Pale Tower
Chapter One Nirmala Rao stood in the rain-slicked courtyard of the abandoned Ashram, her hands trembling so violently that the shattered jade hairpin in her grasp felt like a live wire. She was fifty-eight years old, a textile historian who had not slept a full night since the strike that blacklisted her from the university, and the monsoon was coming up from the harbor with a speed that made...
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