Voronica Whitney-Robinson - Sands of the Soul

Though Selgaunt was a busy merchant city in its own right, Tazi found she was almost suffocated by Calimport. The streets, such as they were, were very narrow, with mud brick walls dividing and subdividing every possible space. Though the streets opened to the sky, across many of the walls that separated the drudachs merchants had laid poles. From these poles, the ingenious peddlers managed to string up even more goods. Tapestries and rugs hung from some, while jewel-hued, freshly dyed yarns hung from others like cheerful spiderwebs. Hardly a breeze stirred the hot air. Tazi felt trapped and claustrophobic.

"Fannah," she whispered in her friend's ear, not wanting Steorf to know she was uncomfortable. She felt that, for the sake of the group, and since she saw his reticence with the dog, she couldn't afford to show fear or allow failure.

"Wouldn't it be easier if we went along the walls above instead of fighting our way against the tide down here?"

Tazi had been noticing how much room there was on the higher walkways, and how much airier they looked, too.

"If we did that," Fannah explained, "we would draw much more attention to ourselves. The upper walkways are for more 'noble' people. There is anonymity and safety for us down here.

"Don't worry," she added, "I can tell from the smell that we're nearly there."

Soon enough, Tazi understood what she meant. A sour odor filled the unmoving air, and Tazi found herself gagging. Without saying a word, Fannah motioned down one of the side streets and Tazi could see twenty large indentations in a clay platform as big as a house foundation. Each hole in the platform was the size of a small drinking well and was filled to the brim with a colored liquid. Every pot had a different color. A couple of robed men were leaning over the various holes like they were scrubbing laundry.

"Leather dyeing," Steorf offered.

"It is a rather unmistakable smell, isn't it?" Tazi replied, absently running a hand down her own leather vest.

The three rounded a turn and came upon one of Calimport's official bazaars: The Scarlet Cross Trading Coster Warehouse. Tents and stalls were pushed up against more permanent structures, and people were shouting to and fro. Merchants thrust objects mercilessly in their faces as Tazi and her companions ran the gauntlet of shops.

"A leather sack for all your treasures?" one seller called out.

"Something sharp and shiny for milady?" another cried.

Tazi was startled as the vendor simply levitated several swords and a mail shirt near her, twirling them around for her inspection. She saw Steorf flinch when the shopkeeper did it to him too.

Tazi also noticed that the types of items for sale changed the deeper they went into the market. The outermost shops had hard goods and weapons, while further in, the stalls were all full of coarse fabrics and different kinds of clothing.

A few feet into the melee, Fannah found what she was looking for. She struck up a conversation with one of the hawkers, and Tazi realized that the two were speaking in Alzhedo, the native tongue of Calimshan. It was the first time she had ever heard it spoken, and Tazi believed it was one of the most lyrical languages she had ever heard.

Only Elvish is more beautiful, she thought, remembering a few of the words Ebeian had said to her once.

The vendor and Fannah, after some obvious haggling, struck a bargain. The old man turned to the back wall of his shop and pointed a finger at several robes that were hanging up. One by one, the robes flew across the shop and were floating in front of Tazi.

"Pick a jellaba that suits you," Fannah told Tazi, switching back to the common tongue.

She chose a white and blue-stripped robe and paid the mutually agreed upon price. Tazi quickly covered herself and felt less vulnerable.

"I don't seem to be happy unless I'm in disguise," she whispered to Steorf, trying to draw him from the moodiness that had overshadowed him since his failure with the dog.

The mage didn't respond. Just as Tazi had stared at the people and architecture when they first entered the city, it was his turn to be mesmerized. Tazi thought he seemed fixated by all the magic surrounding them.

"I have to admit," she leaned closer to him as she flipped up her hood, "that they do seem to be more open about their abilities here in Calimport."

"Abilities?" Steorf scoffed. "They're more like simple parlor tricks. It's shameful behavior," he continued. "Just like in front of the temple of Sel?ne. And they call us barbarians."

Tazi looked at him with a little concern.

He's quick to judge, she thought, but then he's never been outside of Sembia, either.

"Fannah," she said, turning to her companion, "I'm counting on you to help us from making a mistake. From all I've read and seen, the customs of this place are very different from Sembia, and I'd like not to offend too many people."

"If I 'see' you starting to fall, I'll do what I can. But he"-she pointed unerringly at Steorf-"is the sorcerer, not me. There's only so much I can do."

The two women giggled, and Steorf relented a touch. Tazi, pleased that Fannah's words had the desired effect on him, got all of them moving again.

"There must be food somewhere in here," she said to Fannah.

"Farther in, closer to the warehouse proper," Fannah answered, "are the more precious and perishable items."

"Let's keep moving," Tazi urged. "Even with the robes, I still feel a little exposed. Also, it should be harder for someone to overhear us in this throng if we're on the go."

"Well, that's true," Steorf interjected, "as I can barely hear you myself."

Tazi smiled at his quip but was concerned that he still was somewhat preoccupied with the open displays of sorcery.

I'll deal with that later, she thought.

"When I mentioned what Eb told us after his death, you told me you were familiar with the Skulking God," she reminded Fannah. "Is his temple here in Hook Ward, too?"

"No, it isn't," she answered. Fannah ducked as a large basket of fruit passed rather quickly by her head. "On occasion, you might find some of his proselytes out in the wards, but there is no proper temple anywhere above in Calimport for the Lurker in Darkness."

She reached out and plucked several pieces of fruit for Tazi, Steorf, and herself from that same basket and flipped a coin in the direction of the farmer. Tazi was impressed.

"I could hear the basket whistling through the air," Fannah explained when her companions remained silent, "and I could smell the fruit within it."

"But how did you know where the merchant was?" Steorf demanded.

"Lucky guess," Fannah laughed. "I knew that someone within the bazaar would grab the tossed coin and if it wasn't the correct merchant, the rightful one would wrestle it back for himself."

Tazi laughed at her friend's clever solution.

Continuing out of the bazaar, the threesome passed through an archway into a most decadent area: the south end of Erare Sabban. On their left was an obvious festhall with a stone facade, a little rundown but still opulent. What made the roomy building stand out were the seven pillars in front of the structure. Each carved column depicted a woman in various stages of undress. Tazi watched as Steorf became uncomfortable and turned away only to be equally embarrassed by what was to his right. Even Tazi had to blush at that.

"The building to your left is the Seven Dancing Jhasinas," Fannah explained. "The name obviously came from the carvings in front of the building. The structure on this side is the Festhall of Eternal Delight."

"And the guests are obviously delighted to be there," Tazi managed to say.

Steorf was speechless, and Fannah hurried the two past the sybaritic scene literally spilling out of the doorways in front of them. The patrons, much like the Seven Jhasinas, were nearly nude. Fannah stopped them once they were a few buildings distant.