What a thing it is, this wonder Antonin Meiros wrought! To stand upon that span, hundreds of miles from land, is the stuff of dreams. If I close my eyes, I can still hear the waters roar and feel the thrumming of the stone beneath my feet. I have seen wonders, palaces and Dom-al’Ahms and holy places … but it is that Bridge that I will remember until my last breath. MYRON JEMSON, ARGUNDIAN, IN JOURNEYS EASTWARDS, 901 Hebusalim, on the continent of AntiopiaJumada (Maicin) 9282 months until the Moontide Ramita sat upon a stool watching the bustle in the main courtyard of Casa Meiros. Huriya sat at her feet, watching just as avidly as men scurried like monkeys on bamboo scaffolding, lashing the thick poles together to create a temporary pavilion. Tradesmen were filling the kitchens with meat, spices, lentils, olives and flour. The air was rich with baking breads and slowly simmering spiced meats. It had been like this for the past week, but this finally was the day. Her husband was coming home, and he was bringing his important guests, ferang envoys.
