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h, but the honor of my caravan is involved," he says grandly. "We will be sure to find you and put matters to rights." Phrased in such a way that she can't take offense without losing face--but ominous nonetheless. Yasmaili squeezes past several other caravaneers and makes it into the street, where for once the blinding sun and persistent stench are a blessing. Most of those who walk the streets lead camels or mules or horses, wear the loose robes of the desert. Not all those who are so garbed have the features of desert folk, however; and interspersed among them are soldiers wearing grey, their weapons bound in peace knots. Her first instinct is to get as far away as possible-- Several things puzzle her, however. What is her brother doing here, in Harava? Their family came from further south, from a city well within the scorching sands; they were aligned with Clan Mahourza, one of the Lost City's many enemies. It was because of this centuries-old enmity between the southern clans and the City of Tears that Yasmaili thought she would find safety here. "Who trades with a traitor becomes a traitor," the saying goes, and Harava has long been considered a traitor to the desert gods who blessed her with everflowing waters...with the fountain called the Arch of Tears. Has her brother, then, become such a traitor? And if so, what is the source of the profit he hopes to reap from this diametrical change in allegiance? Abruptly she changes direction. To be moving around in the heat of day makes her stand out like a black tent on a sand-dune at midday. Besides the knots in her stomach are prediciting that just running away will be insufficient this time. The only way to prevent Yasefe from sneaking up on her again is to keep her eye on him. Unfortunately, watching a burrowing spider suck the juices from an unwary bug would be more pleasant. As she passes through the narrow, sun-baked streets, she catches fragments of rumor, snippets of news: "...pretty wench, no?..." "...damn raiders. If only they'd stop driving up the price of silk..." "...your pardon. Might I treat you to a glass of pomegranate wine?" "...never forgive us. We're going to need reinforcements..." "...never enough cavalry. You think pike would be any good against..." "...south gate's crawling with soldiers..." "...candy, please? Mother-mine?" Possibly relevant to her situation, though she's not sure how--and now isn't quite the time to go sniffing after possibilities. Firstly, she thinks, a change of clothing. Her best prospect is probably old Halar, who has shared many corners with her, alms bowl thrust toward the crowd attracted by the dancing and the lights. She could undoubtedly be trusted to hold her tongue, and would be willing exchange an old caftan from her secret cache of odds and ends for some trinket or other. Halar is at her usual midday corner, smiling at passersby with surprisingly white teeth (though a few are missing as the result of past scuffles). She is near one of the temples--not so near as to be shooed away, but near enough that the pious might remember their duty toward the destitute as they come and go. "A hot hour to be out, Yasmaili," she says by way of greeting. "The sun-our-lord is once again taking his revenge upon the sands...ah, I digress. Don't let an old woman's rambling distract you. What brings you here, too early to dance?" After hearing Yasmaili's explanation, she nods slowly and shuffles off. Some time later she returns with not only a caftan, but a faded robe that might once have belonged to a fine lady. Halar's eyes dim as she says, "This was once for my daughter, but the girl met misfortune...no matter. If you could spare one of your pretty anklets, or perhaps a hairpin?" Then the reversed glamour, and a stooped shuffling gait, and an non-descript old widow woman could unobtrusively while away the empty hours watching the caravans come and go...and gossiping, of course. Uncomfortable as Yasmaili would be in such close proximity to Yasefe, she would be even more uncomfortable remaining ignorant of his plans.
Back: Yasmaili's Prologue 2 Sun image provided by Clipart Castle.
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