This is the thirty-eighth chapter of Wealthgiver, an alternate history serial romance about nationalism and cave-Thracians. For the back-of-the-book description and an index of chapters, click here. For the beginning, click here. For the previous chapter, click here.
The light vanished from the ridges that hemmed the valley, and the narrow strip of sky beyond darkened and clarified. The stars shone between the black walls of rock, so that it seemed the sky reflected the river.
"Are you listening to me?" asked the old woman.
Kori looked back down. "Yes, grandmother."
Her name was Baba Karka, which was no mask at all, just the bare Bessian word kárka, which meant "silver treasure." She gave no other name, and neither did the dozen women and girls she towed behind her on the way to Peshtera.
"You told me you refused to leave Batak when the Turks came."
"That's right." Karka's hand still worked at the cloth. "I wouldn't leave my home. I told the boys from the Holy Mountain that if they wanted …
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