The Stone of Shadows

7. The Gold Coast

When morning came across the city of Rama, the streets slowly awoke. The bakers started the coals for the soft dough that had risen overnight. The merchants were setting up their stands in the bazaar, ready to sell their trinkets as soon as the flux of buyers came. The early morning light cast upon the square buildings, glimmering the courtyard fountains. Even the water of the sebil, where people gathered to fill their jugs, was glistening in the morning. As soon as the sun entered, and the call that echoed the streets had finished, the people bustled out of their homes. There was always something going on in the grand city. Whether an embezzlement, a tradesman crafting quality items, a woman taking her child to school, a scholar observing the universe in its daylight, the people were always occupied with something. When the sun came to full light, the activity was more evident. The middle of the day granted the opportunity to stop by the bazaar, where the necessary things, along with finer items, were put on display for good prices. It was almost expected for the bazaar to be crowded at this time, for each person sought to fulfill each of their needs.

It was at this time Kurt came to the bazaar. It had been his fourteenth day at the market, which had grown to be more of an oddity by the day. The abundant wealth of the city was the first thing unfamiliar to him. The lapis-tiled university and the adjacent golden-domed mosque, which displayed its verses in large lettering for everyone one to recite, were particularly striking. "I don't see why they spent so much," thought Kurt. But even stranger, there came a woman dressed in a concealing robe, a burqa only revealing her sharp eyes. "And what is this?" he asked himself. "A woman should never cover herself to this extreme!" What Kurt came to realize, as he received eyes from every handsome man and veiled lady, was that his aroma was unfit for this place. The bazaar smelled of rich spices, and incense streaming into the air. It was further down the bazaar, he was confronted by a woman whose age could not be told, but her frustration could be felt like an earthquake. "You! Why don't you wash yourself? You smell like a dung heap!" She walked away at this, and Kurt felt a waft of shame. "I'm sorry!" he cried, and he continued down the bazaar, sniffing himself, smelling nothing vile.

Further into the decorated market, Kurt found himself stuck between the crowd of customers. He felt like a fox trapped by hunting dogs. As people went in their separate directions, Kurt stood perplexed, stuck in the middle of a river of conversations and the scent of spices. He tried to cut to the side, releasing himself from the center of this up and down stream, but each passage to freedom was blocked by a passing shopper. He couldn't stand it. Kurt pushed his way out. Those he disrespected scorned at him, spitting hurtful comments at the boy. But he had made it to the edge of the bazaar, gaining his freedom. He leaned against a pillar, relieved to be at the edge, and turned around to see a storefront selling weapons.

The shop carried a variety of tools for slaughter. Maces, axes, scimitars, bows, all finely crafted and decorated. The weapons trader was a slick man. He was busy inspecting an encrusted blade, squinting his eyes. Kurt, remembering that their weapons had been taken by those vile Orc's at the wall, approached the weapons trader. "Excuse me, sir," said Kurt. "Do you have weapons useful for two travelers?"

"Any weapon is useful for two travelers," said the weapons trader. "It depends on where you're going."

"What about for those heading south?"

"I don't see why you'd need weapons heading south," said the weapons trader. "Unless someone is after you."

"I'd rather stay on the side of caution," said Kurt. "May I examine your wears?"

The weapons trader put down the encrusted sword, diving below the counter, returning back up with several bludgeons and blades. "For those steering on 'the side of caution,' I recommend the dagger of one of Emir Haroon's wives Sazan. She would walk our streets at midnight, attracting the worst of men. This dagger defended her from the creepers, as it will defend you against unwanted persons."