far on a camel and in wagons, a little walking will do you good!” said Abajai, lightly scolding. “And think how it will spice your appetite!”
“My appetite needs no spicing, Aba. The godcakes of Et-Nogolor are the worst I’ve ever tasted!”
For the first time since she and the fat Trader had met, Hekat thought that he was right.
“What amuses, Hekat?” said Abajai.
She would have liked to hold his hand, but that wasn’t a gesture for her to make. He must touch first, always. She smiled at him instead. “I am pleased to be here, Abajai. Et-Raklion is the city of cities.”
“Tchut!” said Yagji. “Can it be possible? For once the monkey speaks words worth hearing.”
Abajai just nodded, and kept on walking.
It took a long time to reach Abajai’s villa. Once they reached the city proper they saw other people in the streets, on foot or traveling in litters carried by strong tall slaves. Abajai and Yagji were recognized over and over; many times they were stopped and welcomed home with smiles and invitations to share food and wine and all the gossip.
“Let us take the discreet way home,” said Yagji at last. “Or we won’t see our bed before newsun, and I’m tired!”
So Abajai dismissed the gatehouse he-brat, because now the roads were lit with torches, and they walked along narrow side-streets into the heart of the Traders district, a section of the city almost halfway between its gatehouse and the base of Raklion’s Pinnacle.
The Traders district was peaceful, sweet-smelling. Every street was lined with dwellings, some with grass and trees and flowers between their closed doors and the cobbles, others hidden behind stone walls with doors built into them. Some of the houses had beautiful slaves by the doors. When they thought Hekat and Abajai and Yagji approached them they stood very tall, only to slump when she and Abajai and Yagji walked by, Obid and the other slave puffing behind them with the cart.
She wished she knew what they were for.
Abajai said, “Where there is a slave, Hekat, either the master is out and the slave will say so, or he is willing to see a visitor and the slave will give that visitor entrance.”
Aieee, he was like the god to read her mind so easily. “And if there is no slave, the master wishes to be alone?”
“Exactly so,” said Abajai. “No civilized person will argue with a slave, or attempt an unattended door. Such an arrangement prevents unpleasantness.”
She nodded, sighing. “Aieee, Abajai. Hekat has so much to learn.”
He tugged her godbraids. “And Hekat is learning. You speak beautifully now. I am pleased with you.”
She gifted him with her widest smile. Pleasing Abajai was all she asked for.
At last they came to a blue wooden door set into a high wall of pale cream stone. The most beautiful slave stood guard before it. He was tall and muscled, clad in black silk pantaloons, with a fistful of amulets round his neck and his bare chest tattooed with snakes and lizards. His scarlet slave’s godbraid was heavy with godbells. He saw them and dropped hard to his knees, his face lighting up in a radiant smile.
“Master Abajai! Master Yagji! The god sees you, masters! It sees you in its eye!”
“Stand, stand, Nim,” said Abajai, laughing. “And open the door. Your caravanning masters are finally come home.”
The slave Nim leapt to his feet and flung open the blue wooden door so they might enter the villa’s grounds. “Retoth will weep to see you, masters! Everything is beautiful, as you left it!”
“And what of Hooli?” Yagji demanded. “Does Hooli thrive?”
The slave bowed low. “Master Yagji, he thrives.”
As Yagji made silly happy sounds, Abajai gestured at Obid and the other slave. “Take these ones and the cart to the villa’s rear entrance, Nim. Help them unload the coin boxes into the strong room, then see them to the slaves’ quarters for food and a mattress. We will receive no visitors tonight.”
“Yes, Master
“My appetite needs no spicing, Aba. The godcakes of Et-Nogolor are the worst I’ve ever tasted!”
For the first time since she and the fat Trader had met, Hekat thought that he was right.
“What amuses, Hekat?” said Abajai.
She would have liked to hold his hand, but that wasn’t a gesture for her to make. He must touch first, always. She smiled at him instead. “I am pleased to be here, Abajai. Et-Raklion is the city of cities.”
“Tchut!” said Yagji. “Can it be possible? For once the monkey speaks words worth hearing.”
Abajai just nodded, and kept on walking.
It took a long time to reach Abajai’s villa. Once they reached the city proper they saw other people in the streets, on foot or traveling in litters carried by strong tall slaves. Abajai and Yagji were recognized over and over; many times they were stopped and welcomed home with smiles and invitations to share food and wine and all the gossip.
“Let us take the discreet way home,” said Yagji at last. “Or we won’t see our bed before newsun, and I’m tired!”
So Abajai dismissed the gatehouse he-brat, because now the roads were lit with torches, and they walked along narrow side-streets into the heart of the Traders district, a section of the city almost halfway between its gatehouse and the base of Raklion’s Pinnacle.
The Traders district was peaceful, sweet-smelling. Every street was lined with dwellings, some with grass and trees and flowers between their closed doors and the cobbles, others hidden behind stone walls with doors built into them. Some of the houses had beautiful slaves by the doors. When they thought Hekat and Abajai and Yagji approached them they stood very tall, only to slump when she and Abajai and Yagji walked by, Obid and the other slave puffing behind them with the cart.
She wished she knew what they were for.
Abajai said, “Where there is a slave, Hekat, either the master is out and the slave will say so, or he is willing to see a visitor and the slave will give that visitor entrance.”
Aieee, he was like the god to read her mind so easily. “And if there is no slave, the master wishes to be alone?”
“Exactly so,” said Abajai. “No civilized person will argue with a slave, or attempt an unattended door. Such an arrangement prevents unpleasantness.”
She nodded, sighing. “Aieee, Abajai. Hekat has so much to learn.”
He tugged her godbraids. “And Hekat is learning. You speak beautifully now. I am pleased with you.”
She gifted him with her widest smile. Pleasing Abajai was all she asked for.
At last they came to a blue wooden door set into a high wall of pale cream stone. The most beautiful slave stood guard before it. He was tall and muscled, clad in black silk pantaloons, with a fistful of amulets round his neck and his bare chest tattooed with snakes and lizards. His scarlet slave’s godbraid was heavy with godbells. He saw them and dropped hard to his knees, his face lighting up in a radiant smile.
“Master Abajai! Master Yagji! The god sees you, masters! It sees you in its eye!”
“Stand, stand, Nim,” said Abajai, laughing. “And open the door. Your caravanning masters are finally come home.”
The slave Nim leapt to his feet and flung open the blue wooden door so they might enter the villa’s grounds. “Retoth will weep to see you, masters! Everything is beautiful, as you left it!”
“And what of Hooli?” Yagji demanded. “Does Hooli thrive?”
The slave bowed low. “Master Yagji, he thrives.”
As Yagji made silly happy sounds, Abajai gestured at Obid and the other slave. “Take these ones and the cart to the villa’s rear entrance, Nim. Help them unload the coin boxes into the strong room, then see them to the slaves’ quarters for food and a mattress. We will receive no visitors tonight.”
“Yes, Master
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