Rage and Rebellion (Histories of Havenhearth)

1.3 Yarazhenya

"My niece is coming!" Yarazhenya, the half Petrovian half Cassioni candle-maker told Callira Evarrlie, the Tainish linguist and Chevelles' only teacher of languages. They were walking along one of the main roads, which led directly to the market square in the centre of Chevelles.
"I knew not you had a niece."
"I haven't seen her for years. Since well before I arrived here, and that was a year ago now." The pair turned right into a small alley of houses with mud walls to avoid running into a donkey with what appeared to be bundles of wheat in a load that was far too big for it, tied directly onto its back.
"It's happy news," Callira said, stepping over a patch of sludge. She too had been in Chevelles long enough to know to always keep an eye on the ground to avoid stepping straight into these pools of unknown liquids which formed in the streets.
"All the way from Tainland to Cassioni."
"Your niece is Tainish?" Evarrlie seemed surprised to learn that she had family from her homeland, given Yarazhenya's colourful heritage. "Her mother is Tainish and she has spent most of her life there." They turned again down another alley to loop back towards the market square. The smell of open latrine hit their noses: they no longer took much notice of it.
"'When will she arrive?" They edged past a man carrying buckets hanging from poles stretched over his shoulders. He did a double take of the two foreign women as he passed, perhaps having never seen foreigners before.
"The next caravan," Yarazhenya explained that her niece had written to her several months prior, asking to  join her in Cassion. Somehow she had found a Tainish scholar who would soon be making the journey. The scholar was a well-educated young man who spoke fluent Cassion, Gawan and had published numerous written works on societies of the continent of Havenhearth. It was decided that the scholar and Yarazhenya's niece would thusly venture out together on the next sailing. Callira raised her eyebrows. "A male travel companion?' Yarazhenya brushed off the question, "He is very well-educated." A horse drawn carriage, full of furniture appeared: someone was moving house. The wooden chairs, tottered atop tables and other items. They circled around it.
"You are not worried they might have unspiritly intentions ?" Yarazhenya found Callira to be a strange woman, and neither loved nor disliked her, but they spent a lot of time together, as foreigners in small cities were wont to do. She should have expected such a line of questioning from a staunch a spiritualist as Callira, a characteristic Yarazhenya thought prevented them from being true friends rather than acquaintances.
"He's been here before, and is returning for a cultural study of some kind.' Yarazhenya pulled Evarrlie off the road to avoid a horse that seemed to have lost its rider or carriage or something. But this kind of thing happened all of the time and they were used to it. "There's that Tainish spiritualist family on their way too. Have you heard anything of their arrival?" Yarazhenya shrugged.
A farmer dragging a nearly empty wooden cart directly behind him passed by, a small number of vegetables rolled around the back, presumably whatever he had not been able to sell at the dawn market that morning.
"A cause for celebration,"
"Indeed so. And where are you off to today master of languages?"
"To see the chancellor." It was Yarazhenya's turn to raise her eyebrows, her voice full of suspicion. "And what is that unsavoury character up to these days?" Yarazhenya could not understand the relationship those two had developed. The chancellor was untrustworthy, corrupt, and cruel.
"Unsavoury?" Evarrlie found it hard to believe that Yarazhenya herself was talking about being unseemly.
She, like many from Petrovia, who spent most days drunk at various establishments around the town.
"I hear I heard at Birds that she beats her men whenever they do anything at all that displeases her. I cannot imagine you enjoy her company." They finally resumed the main thoroughfare, weaving their way among the animals and carts.
"She enjoys mine too I think." In a sedan chair, a woman of some wealth sat above the organised chaos, gazing at length at the two foreigners.
"Well, learning this, I have a favour to ask of you." They reached the market square, the hall of Chevelles sat in the middle of it. The square was actually more a circle, with no less than fourteen streets circling outwards from it, each known for being the center of a particular trade. One was for the buying, selling, sewing and repairing of footwear, cloth, straw and leather being the most common materials in this area of Cassioni. Another street was for kitchenware: pots and pans, eating utensils of wood and iron and other metals, ceramic dishes and plates. There was a pharmaceutical and medical street, a clothing and Jewelry Street, a Street for groceries, an entire Street of tea, one for restaurants and hotels, another of drinking and entertainment establishments, one for money and finances and one known as fire street where one could buy firewood, incense, candles, fire starters and fire tending implements. Four streets, in each compass direction, were reserved for transit in and out of the square, and it was one one of these that the two foreigners had come in on. The square was surrounded by two-or three-storeyed timber and stone houses with black tiles on the roof usually belonging to successful merchant families. The lower storeys that lined the circle were shops and restaurants, always open to the street. Although no large wagons were permitted in the circle, most ignored this rule, and there were always issues with traffic.
The hall in the middle was decorated in blue, black, red and white tiles, with curving eaves, covered with carved statues of animals. Because of it being at the centre of the town's activities, it required frequent repair and had become run-down. Although the local legis did made effort to keep it in good shape, it was too expensive and up close, it was easy to see gaps in the mosaics where tiles had fallen off, where the pillars' paint had peeled or chipped. The inside was indeed worse for wear: outdated and overused, it's flooring was worn down and dirty, and cracks in the walls could be seen.
"And what is the favour?"
"I need you to ask about my caravan please. If she knows anything about what happened. I trust you will be able to do so in a way which suits Cassioni conversational conventions,"
"I will try." They passed by a crowd of people near the hall, but could not see the reason for the gathering.
"I have some business inside, I hope to see you again soon, and maybe later today, if you have any news of interest." She extended her hand, which was grasped and shaken by Evarrlie's own.
"May the spirits guide you well, candle-maker."
"I have much to learn," Yarazhenya said, opting for the local greeting instead, walking up the steps towards the front door, while Callira walked around the side of the hall, on her way to the chancellor's. Yarazhenya watched until Callira had rounded the corner and rather than going inside, hurried down the steps, across the square and down the alley off of food street and into her favorite public house in Chevelles for a drink to celebrate the good news of her nephew's imminent arrival.

The Birds of Paradise was perhaps the most well-known public house in the region of Angounesse, certainly in Chevelles. It's upstairs employees, educated in a wide range of specialities, only one of several draws. Some knew art, all of the Cassioni classics as well as those from otherlands, and could draw, paint and sculpt. Others specialised in music, able to sing, and play instruments from all over Havenhearth. Others still knew the performing arts, and could recite poetry, act, and give puppet shows. Some had been trained in physical ways, and could dance, do martial arts, and gymnastics. There was also those who were well-read, and well-versed in history and current affairs, and up to date with scientific and technological advances. They could discuss philosophy, pop culture, or spiritualism. Some workers knew nothing more and nothing other than about physical pleasure. The proprietor, Ghiselaina Pintreaux, Laina for short, prided herself on having something for everyone but many said that the Birds of Paradise achieved its success simply because of the food and drink they served, which was superior to most of the restaurants in town: a public house could not be successful, if people did not want to eat and drink there, Laina often said. Yarazhenya liked it for all of these reasons, but above all places like this, they needed candles. Lots and lots of candles. Yarazhenya did a lot of business there. And the more time she seemed to spend at these places, the more business she did with them- that was just how it worked in Cassion.