of Lady Bousim would probably do more to encourage sobriety in him than anything John could do or say.
“All right. Let’s go then,” John decided.
It didn’t require much effort to locate the Bousim tents. They rose up in swooping emerald arcs behind the rows of flower sellers. Wealthy families of Amura’taye had erected tents for themselves as well, but none were as vast or as pleasantly placed. The natural perfume of cut blossoms and live flowers drifted over the heavier scent of tahldi hide and human sweat.
Rather than merely providing temporary relief from the sun, the main Bousim tent impressed John as a work of architecture. Massive, carved timbers had been driven into the earth and secured with thick viridian-dyed ropes. The huge lengths of green cloth that stretched across the timbers were reinforced with worked leather displaying a pattern of the Bousim crossed arrows. Polished jade baubles hung from the timbers and lengths of silky green cloth and silver bells were strung across the entry.
The four rashan’im who guarded front of the great tent watched Hann’yu and John as they approached but didn’t challenge them. As they entered, the faint sound of bells announced their presence. Inside, the air was cool. The tent’s interior was suffused with an emerald glow from light passing through the cloth walls. Hann’yu’s dark skin took on a pine tone. John imagined that his own pale hair had turned the color of a lime.
Aside from an open circle at the center of the tent, the rest of the floor was littered with low tables and embroidered cushions. Men, wearing the badges of city judges, guild fathers, and scholars, sat at the tables surrounded by their wives, unwed daughters, and favorite sons. Some glanced up as John and Hann’yu entered, but most seemed too engrossed in their conversations to take any note.
Every table was laden with dishes piled high with fragrant cut fruit or sliced meat. As he eyed these, John became suddenly aware of the absence of the flies and bees that had filled the open fairgrounds. He surmised that the veils of cloth and strings of bells over the entry weren’t purely ornamental.
At the far end of the tent, Lady Bousim lounged with her maids and attendants. Two younger men were seated across from her. Their clothes, like those of the guild fathers, city judges, and scholars were well made and new. They wore clean, polished shoes, instead of sewn goatskins or scuffed work boots. That alone marked them as better off than most of the people at the Harvest Fair. But compared to Lady Bousim and her entourage, they might as well have been peasants.
Lady Bousim looked up as John and Hann’yu approached. She gave John a gentle smile, but when she took in Hann’yu’s face, her expression suddenly became radiantly happy. She stood.
“Please forgive me if I’m wrong, but you are the very image of Hann’yu Shim’arun of the Lisam House,” Lady Bousim said.
“I never did the name service enough while it was mine.” Hann’yu bowed smoothly and then straightened. “Now I am only Ushman Hann’yu.”
Both Hann’yu and Lady Bousim turned expectantly to John. His grasp of Basawar etiquette was poor when it came to women, but he knew that it was rarely desirable for them to introduce themselves to unrelated men, particularly if the men were of a rank close to or higher than their own. Hann’yu cleared his throat quietly. Suddenly, John realized that they were waiting for him to introduce Hann’yu to Lady Bousim.
“Ushman Hann’yu, please allow me to present the benevolent Lady Amha’in’Bousim to you.”
Hann’yu bowed a second time and Lady Bousim invited them both to sit and dine.
Once the formality of the introduction had been disposed with, Hann’yu installed himself at the table across from Lady Bousim and the two of them immediately began discussing their native city of Nurjima. The two handsome young men who had been attempting to entertain Lady
“All right. Let’s go then,” John decided.
It didn’t require much effort to locate the Bousim tents. They rose up in swooping emerald arcs behind the rows of flower sellers. Wealthy families of Amura’taye had erected tents for themselves as well, but none were as vast or as pleasantly placed. The natural perfume of cut blossoms and live flowers drifted over the heavier scent of tahldi hide and human sweat.
Rather than merely providing temporary relief from the sun, the main Bousim tent impressed John as a work of architecture. Massive, carved timbers had been driven into the earth and secured with thick viridian-dyed ropes. The huge lengths of green cloth that stretched across the timbers were reinforced with worked leather displaying a pattern of the Bousim crossed arrows. Polished jade baubles hung from the timbers and lengths of silky green cloth and silver bells were strung across the entry.
The four rashan’im who guarded front of the great tent watched Hann’yu and John as they approached but didn’t challenge them. As they entered, the faint sound of bells announced their presence. Inside, the air was cool. The tent’s interior was suffused with an emerald glow from light passing through the cloth walls. Hann’yu’s dark skin took on a pine tone. John imagined that his own pale hair had turned the color of a lime.
Aside from an open circle at the center of the tent, the rest of the floor was littered with low tables and embroidered cushions. Men, wearing the badges of city judges, guild fathers, and scholars, sat at the tables surrounded by their wives, unwed daughters, and favorite sons. Some glanced up as John and Hann’yu entered, but most seemed too engrossed in their conversations to take any note.
Every table was laden with dishes piled high with fragrant cut fruit or sliced meat. As he eyed these, John became suddenly aware of the absence of the flies and bees that had filled the open fairgrounds. He surmised that the veils of cloth and strings of bells over the entry weren’t purely ornamental.
At the far end of the tent, Lady Bousim lounged with her maids and attendants. Two younger men were seated across from her. Their clothes, like those of the guild fathers, city judges, and scholars were well made and new. They wore clean, polished shoes, instead of sewn goatskins or scuffed work boots. That alone marked them as better off than most of the people at the Harvest Fair. But compared to Lady Bousim and her entourage, they might as well have been peasants.
Lady Bousim looked up as John and Hann’yu approached. She gave John a gentle smile, but when she took in Hann’yu’s face, her expression suddenly became radiantly happy. She stood.
“Please forgive me if I’m wrong, but you are the very image of Hann’yu Shim’arun of the Lisam House,” Lady Bousim said.
“I never did the name service enough while it was mine.” Hann’yu bowed smoothly and then straightened. “Now I am only Ushman Hann’yu.”
Both Hann’yu and Lady Bousim turned expectantly to John. His grasp of Basawar etiquette was poor when it came to women, but he knew that it was rarely desirable for them to introduce themselves to unrelated men, particularly if the men were of a rank close to or higher than their own. Hann’yu cleared his throat quietly. Suddenly, John realized that they were waiting for him to introduce Hann’yu to Lady Bousim.
“Ushman Hann’yu, please allow me to present the benevolent Lady Amha’in’Bousim to you.”
Hann’yu bowed a second time and Lady Bousim invited them both to sit and dine.
Once the formality of the introduction had been disposed with, Hann’yu installed himself at the table across from Lady Bousim and the two of them immediately began discussing their native city of Nurjima. The two handsome young men who had been attempting to entertain Lady
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