Soothsayer Blues
The rich build towers to the sky, harpoon the clouds and tow them to their vineyards, keep them on short chains so they don’t get it in their cotton minds to wander.
Steel Dust
It hardly seems surprising that djinns and djinnis could have apparated to the ancients of this place, the land of purity and dust, dust that settles over everything and can only be disturbed by the clumsy hands of a foreigner
