early evening, when a cool breeze from the east blew across our friends before the high wrought-iron and stonework Dragon Gate of the Imperial Palace. They had just settled down to wait when four Dragonlords appeared from within. They approached the four friends and, without arrangement or study, each stood before one and bowed.
The young man who bowed to Khaavren wore knee-length black boots, heavy black hose, a black, cheaply woven and loosely fitting cotton doublet with copper buttons and silver-colored strips along the side and at the cuffs. He carried a heavy broadsword at his side. Khaavren at once determined that he was the sort of fellow whose arrogant blue eyes and quarrelsome countenance would have already earned him scores of duels.
“Good day, my lord,” said our young hero. “I am Khaavren.”
“I am Frai e’Terics,” said the other. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, we can begin at once.”
“I should be honored,” said Khaavren.
“Yes,” said the other.
Khaavren looked at him quickly, but saw no trace of a smile. He shrugged to himself, however, and allowed the Dragonlord to lead him toward the Street of the Nine Pleasures. This was a narrow, east-west running street that had been named for the inns, brothels, gaming halls, and other entertainments that could be found there. No one knew what all of the nine pleasures were, and much entertainment was derived among the lower classes (and, we are forced to admit, sometimes the upper classes) by speculating upon what these pleasures were, or imagining that a tenth had been found. One that was often spoken of, in jest, was the pleasure provided by the narrowness of the street, which hardly permitted the passing of a single hand-cart.
The pleasure provided by this feature was that of standing in a doorway when two nobles, particularly two Dzurlords, met; especially if each had a greatsword worn in such a way that it would project out to the side. When this occurred, as it did several times a day, one of the nobles would be obliged to turn to allow the other to pass, thus being subject to the loud hoots and jeers from hidden onlookers; or else both must stand fast, in
which case it was unlikely that both would resume the journey under their own power. It is certainly true that there were other streets in Dragaera City as narrow, but none as narrow and as well-trodden by the nobility.
To this street, then, came Khaavren and Frai. On this evening, ribbons had been hung from building to building—ribbons of all colors, but gold predominating; buildings of all types, but square wooden frames of two or three stories and round balconies being the most common. During the walk, they had not said a word to each other, Khaavren contenting himself with watching the festivities. These, it should be said, ran the gamut from public, with hundreds of revelers singing songs together, attempting to reclaim in volume whatever might be lost in pitch, to private, with a single Teckla holding a bottle of wine and laughing uproariously at a joke only he understood. Sometimes, the revels were organized, as the parade they passed which included bits of wood and wax thrown from buildings, and fireworks shot back and forth between the balconies of opposing inns in a sort of mock battle, at other times to the completely disorganized, as the bathing party in the public fountain near Maretta’s House.
After some few minutes of walking along the street and watching the festivities, Frai indicated that they should enter an inn beneath a sign which showed an issola contorting itself around a thin tree. The inn was crowded, as all such places were on this evening of celebration. The patrons were of mixed Houses, but Khaavren noticed a high proportion of Dzur and Jhereg. He mentioned this to Frai, but the latter gave him a look which said, as plainly as Aerich could have said it with a shrug or the Captain with a grunt, that the observation was useless.
The host, who
The young man who bowed to Khaavren wore knee-length black boots, heavy black hose, a black, cheaply woven and loosely fitting cotton doublet with copper buttons and silver-colored strips along the side and at the cuffs. He carried a heavy broadsword at his side. Khaavren at once determined that he was the sort of fellow whose arrogant blue eyes and quarrelsome countenance would have already earned him scores of duels.
“Good day, my lord,” said our young hero. “I am Khaavren.”
“I am Frai e’Terics,” said the other. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, we can begin at once.”
“I should be honored,” said Khaavren.
“Yes,” said the other.
Khaavren looked at him quickly, but saw no trace of a smile. He shrugged to himself, however, and allowed the Dragonlord to lead him toward the Street of the Nine Pleasures. This was a narrow, east-west running street that had been named for the inns, brothels, gaming halls, and other entertainments that could be found there. No one knew what all of the nine pleasures were, and much entertainment was derived among the lower classes (and, we are forced to admit, sometimes the upper classes) by speculating upon what these pleasures were, or imagining that a tenth had been found. One that was often spoken of, in jest, was the pleasure provided by the narrowness of the street, which hardly permitted the passing of a single hand-cart.
The pleasure provided by this feature was that of standing in a doorway when two nobles, particularly two Dzurlords, met; especially if each had a greatsword worn in such a way that it would project out to the side. When this occurred, as it did several times a day, one of the nobles would be obliged to turn to allow the other to pass, thus being subject to the loud hoots and jeers from hidden onlookers; or else both must stand fast, in
which case it was unlikely that both would resume the journey under their own power. It is certainly true that there were other streets in Dragaera City as narrow, but none as narrow and as well-trodden by the nobility.
To this street, then, came Khaavren and Frai. On this evening, ribbons had been hung from building to building—ribbons of all colors, but gold predominating; buildings of all types, but square wooden frames of two or three stories and round balconies being the most common. During the walk, they had not said a word to each other, Khaavren contenting himself with watching the festivities. These, it should be said, ran the gamut from public, with hundreds of revelers singing songs together, attempting to reclaim in volume whatever might be lost in pitch, to private, with a single Teckla holding a bottle of wine and laughing uproariously at a joke only he understood. Sometimes, the revels were organized, as the parade they passed which included bits of wood and wax thrown from buildings, and fireworks shot back and forth between the balconies of opposing inns in a sort of mock battle, at other times to the completely disorganized, as the bathing party in the public fountain near Maretta’s House.
After some few minutes of walking along the street and watching the festivities, Frai indicated that they should enter an inn beneath a sign which showed an issola contorting itself around a thin tree. The inn was crowded, as all such places were on this evening of celebration. The patrons were of mixed Houses, but Khaavren noticed a high proportion of Dzur and Jhereg. He mentioned this to Frai, but the latter gave him a look which said, as plainly as Aerich could have said it with a shrug or the Captain with a grunt, that the observation was useless.
The host, who
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