![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Over the millennia, the Khorasan Highway had been followed by any number of travelers: nomads, caravans-and the armies of conquering kings. Who, and when, no one really knew for sure,* but it was certainly very ancient-perhaps, some said, as old as time itself. Only a beneficent deity, it was assumed, could ever have fashioned such a wonder. In places, as it climbed through the Zagros Mountains, winding along river beds, or threading between jagged pinnacles and ravines, it might be little more than a footpath-but even that, to those who used it, was a miracle enough. One road did snake across them: the most famous in the world, the Khorasan Highway, which led from the limits of the East to the West, and joined the rising to the setting of the sun. Yet these mountains, though savage, were not impassable. So it seemed to those who lived in the Zagros, the great chain of peaks which separates the Fertile Crescent from the upland plateau of Iran. The gods, having scorned to mold a world that was level, had preferred instead to divide it into two. ![]()
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