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ot for the first time this evening, Yasmaili wonders where Mehuna is to be found. She's searched in all of Mehuna's usual haunts, and as yet she hasn't found a trace of her friend. Even at the Prickly Rose, Mehuna's favourite guesthouse (mostly because the jeweller's son has been known to stop by), the regulars can only tell Yasmaili, "She mentioned feeling adventuresome today, and there's no telling where she lost herself." As to her inquiries about weddings and naming ceremonies, Yasmaili did get a few leads: House Tayya, a Qenaren merchant's family (no doubt trying to blend in with native-born Haravai) and others who are looking for skilled dancers. Finally, as she's about to give up and track down Emif instead, Yasmaili--whose feet are almost getting sore by now--sees a crowd by the city's south gate, and hears the familiar wail of a shawm. It must be Mehuna with her younger sister, Meliz--who earns her living as a musician rather than a dancer, since she's lame in one leg. [Shawm: a precursor to the oboe. Probably a Qenaren "import."] Indeed, it *is* Mehuna, though it's surely unusual to find her dancing for the rowdier crowds at the gate, where caravaneers make their return to a city's comforts after days in the Diresands. Mehuna's brown hair--unusual in a city of mostly-black-haired people is elaborately, almost modestly coifed, despite her dancer's costume. Also, not far away, there appears to be a duel between two young nobles. Hotbloods with nothing better to do, or perhaps there's a matter of honor involved. With nobles it's sometimes impossible to tell. A pity for Mehuna, though, that she's losing some of her potential audience to the duel. An entering caravan catches Yasmaili's eye. Some of the guards and such look familiar; she's been around long enough to recognize many of the regular traders. But one man in that train looks a little lost and not a little out of place. Definitely a foreigner, with his outlandish clothes and fair skin, a horse that looks like it was bred in a friendlier climate. The caravan leader appears to be giving him advice, or a warning, or maybe both. Mehuna's dance appears to be coming to an end, and she begins collecting coins from appreciative watchers. Even the rowdier types seem tolerably well-behaved this evening. But Mehuna hasn't spotted Yasmaili yet, and shows every sign of feeling energetic enough to begin another dance immediately if she isn't interrupted. The foreigner is drifting into the crowd--someone to watch, perhaps, but on the other hand he should be easy to track through gossip.
Back: Yasmailil's Prologue 10 Sun image provided by Clipart Castle.
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