Harmindon's Finest

Chapter 18 - The Journey, Part 1

Túrien was, of course, delighted by my news and immediately set about organising transport for me. Though I protested, I was glad she did, because I would have had no idea how to set about doing something like this myself.

This was where Túrien seemed to come into her own. Relations and communication between our two countries, she'd once explained to me, and representing one when in the other. These were her main responsibilities as Ambassador, which was why I complained so little when she rushed here and there, seeing contacts and poring over maps and whatever an Ambassador usually did. It was her job, after all, as well as Ramyahani.

And she was good at it too.

Only three days after I'd told her of my intentions, when I was still rushing around trying to complete unfinished orders and endeavouring to satisfy indignant customers (take the example of Lady Rewan, for example. I found it quite hypocritical, really, how she spluttered and complained about my leaving for a good ten minutes while I stood there, calm on the surface, while seething to myself inside - five years ago you wouldn't even look twice at me, yet now you can't bear my absence? How many clothes does a woman of your status need anyway?!), she'd already found a young family, intent on making a new life, with room to spare in their cart. 

"It would be much easier if I could just lend you a horse," Túrien confided to me as we went to meet them, "And much quicker. But learning to ride would take longer than the actual journey - even by cart - that it's really not worth it, for now. Anyway, meet Amira. Her family will travel with you all the way to Minas Tirith with you - that's lucky, because most people only go as far as Kazabhâd and it's such a nuisance trying to arrange new transport with Yusannah's idiotic Ambassador. Oh, are you two already aquainted?" - because both Amira and I had given an exclamation of delight upon seeing each other.

"Indeed, Lady Jeddah has been the friend of my youngest sister for as long as I can remember."

"I'm not a lady," I laughed, while secretly rather proud. Amira had indeed been one of the girls that I remembered being very kind to me as a child and allowing Thekla and I to play with her collection of painted beads - and that I had helped arrange garlands of greenery with at Thekla's wedding. She was around thirty years old, with Thekla's shining brown waves of hair hidden under her charcoal-grey shawl and friendly laugh.

She introduced me to her husband, Qufar, who was one of the Mûmakil keepers by trade and was finding it very difficult to be seperated from his charges. He was as open and kind as his wife, telling me about their twin sons and baby daughter and how they were all so excited to be going on an adventure. When I asked where they were, he shrugged, saying the boys often took their sister to the gardens to play a baby princess that they had to rescue from all kinds of imaginary monsters - and he laughed, completely confident they would return in time for supper. 

Qufar and Amira were so friendly to me, they reminded me almost painfully of Thekla - but this was good, they would be easier to get along with than a family of strangers, and I was happy my companions for the two-week long journey were already familiar.

•●•●•●•

The day of our departure, Miarka was ecstatic, even more excited than usual. She'd spent the past week cooking for me, mostly dry, flat breads that would keep on the long journey - but with a "borrowed" embroidery needle, she spent hours drawing flowers and poking patterns into the uncooked dough, before baking. I'd helped her too, when I wasn't meeting Amira to finalise details or delivering hastily finished orders. It was a peaceful activity, and quite likely the last thing I would do in the company of my sister for a long time.

She wrapped the breads in some sacking material and tucked several bushels of rosemary under the folds. This gesture of kindness nearly moved me to tears, but I set aside my moment of weakness for later.