The brightly painted merchant cart creaks and groans as the wagon rolls from the Zwering road to clatter atop that famous Keffan masonry and join with the throng of merchants, peddlers and pilgrims. The ruddy-faced merchant with greying hair she’d saved in Ossmat had claimed the ‘Den of Whores’ was a painted beauty, but all the cobbles did was set her teeth clattering.
The man seemed quite pleased to be back atop the rumbling ground calling back, “We’re almost there bayan! Can you not smell it? I will take you to the market and feed you the finest of foods from my city. She is a treat to all the senses.”
With a firm grip on the doorframe Nerta rises to peer about, her cloak snapping in the wind. The thick forest was slowly giving way to small cots and waystations. They pass bustling taverns, the party goers spilling out into the woodlands to drink and sing in defiance of the growing throng of carts weaving between like fish in the sea.
She’d seen a few cities now. Big messy things with too many people, too close and too loud. But she could certainly smell this land: the lingering mix of the forest, of flowers, of spice and of sweat. It was, almost, pleasant.
“You are not wrong on that, peddler, though if the rest of your city is as garishly painted as your cart, I might be served better to keep my eyes closed when I visit.”
The man roars with laughter “Oh you northerners! So harsh, so severe. The whores are painted for you, bayan, do not hide yourself bashfully! Embrace what you desire and it will bring you the strength to fight on despite the harshness of the world.”
A flick of the reins sees the cart lurch ahead with speed, rolling around another garish wagon marked out as a cloth merchant whose driver shouts and shakes a fist at the recklessness. Her guide in this strange land dismisses the man with a wave of his hand and continues, “You shall feast bayan! The scents, the food, and the men! Anything less and I would be shamed for not paying the debts I owe you.”
Swaying through the ride, Nerta smirks and pulls her cloak tighter, “I won’t say no to the first two but I doubt any Keffan men will be of interest, present company included.”
“Ohffff an old man like me? Perish the thought bayan! No you need someone young and vibrant. But fine, no men, women aplenty! We will find you another bayan in silk so smooth you might think it a dream. After a night together my debts will be paid and you will have a new appreciation for the finer things!”
The towering spires of Keffa climb into view as the cart swerves away from another, though this time the exchange of shouts seems more pleasant. Perhaps the pair are old friends? Either way it gives Nerta time to admire the great walls of Keffa, adorned with painted reliefs. The mosaic pattern seems a trait of these people, though where they get such vibrant blues is a mystery. Blue dye was always hard to find in the mountains but given these walls you’d think they had a well of it.
Passing through the oaken gates, the scent of the city blossoms around her as the merchant turns down a side road toward the bazaar. He only barely slows, leaving Nerta to watch a few pedestrians blur by as they linger against trees and sip rich-smelling drinks. It set the woman’s stomach to rumble but before she could comment they had stopped by a sparkling fountain.
The merchant moves quickly for such a large man, climbing from his seat to wave over a scamp of a boy and pass him a coin. Errand concluded, the man hitches up his belt and waddles over to gesture with a sweeping wave of his hand, “You will eat the finest meal of your life now bayan. Go there tell them Ekrem sent you and be delighted all evening. Then tomorrow we will leave for Firbalt and this Agyrian Academy you are so enamoured about.”
“You know if you fought half as well as you bargain, you’d not have needed me to save you in the first place.” Hopping down with a puff of dust, a rumble in her stomach interjects, “Food sounds good but we don’t need to leave right away if you have business to attend. This place is doesn’t seem so bad to linger for a bit. Though I’m sure there will be work enough.”
Laughing with delight he nods, “We might make a civilized woman of you yet bayan! We shall stay the week, but you are too young to stay out of trouble! Go and live a little in the Den of Whores!”
With a lopsided grin Nerta feels a chilly breeze pulling her gaze up above the cafe to the odd pillar of light dancing through the clouds. Though it was yet one more thing of beauty in a city of scents and colour, the warmth of the day seems to drain slowly the longer she inspects it.
Looks like trouble already found her. |