Fantasy Treasures, Dunes, and Tombs (Jannah & Poo)

[POOHEAD189]

Well, Harun would give Raghba Shahir one thing. It certainly knew how to throw a party.

The sun beat down on the immaculate city, its towering spires and multicolored ribbons and tabards served as the only respite in its wake. Announcing the beginning of the festivities were ungulating cries and small prayers to Hayashim before the cornucopia of extravagant pleasures and haughty talk commenced. It happened so quickly and with such gusto that Harun did not know exactly what to do.

Having grown up on the streets of Il-Shamabad, Harun wasn't used to vast celebration. The rulers there were far more militaristic and utilitarian in manner. The city guards roamed the streets just as the thugs did, and he had grown quite a collection of scars escaping imprisonment before he had seen fifteen summers. As such, he'd put more men in the ground rather than women in their bed, an old friend once said. He wasn't exactly a people person, he guessed. But he was young and strong, and he wasn't above a good party. He actually missed his old city, but killing an Emir was generally frowned upon so he fled to the only city larger and richer than the last. Too bad he now found himself scraping for the favor of this city's wealthy in their 'Pit' as they called it. It wasn't a bad living, but he did long for the day he didn't have to risk his neck for what he wanted.

He poked his head around the street corner, past the marketplace where merchants of every race and garb were selling their wares with what could only be described as a desperation. In the bath houses, he saw scantily clad women rubbing the shoulders of corsairs and courtiers of the sultan. One ebony pirate was so rotund, his stomach seemed to balloon outward into the water with no sign of curving backward. Across the center, dancing girls spun veil weaves as their bodies leaped and spun teasingly. What was more tantalizing were the fruits that were being sold across the expanse of the road. The contrast between the dirt street and the Palace of ivory and precious stones in the background would be tremendous to a newcomer to the city, but Harun's mind was purely on nabbing one of the apples before the merchant saw him.

That is, until he saw someone he had never seen before. He blinked, and an apple was now the second most interesting thing in the marketplace.

 

[Jannah]

So this was the grand city of Raghba Shahir. Khadijah did have to admit that it was rather...impressive. Its towering domes and extravagant architectural marvels did have a way of leaving a powerful first impression. The myths about the city, many of which the woman practically knew by heart by now painted a rather different picture of the city. It was said to be situated and born from the desert oases themselves, all thanks to the riches of its first sultan. The man, of course, was reputed to have been tyrannical yet fair. He also supposedly held many secrets and many apparently taken to the grave. Had they been lost, though? If anything, Khadijah took the declaration almost like a challenge.

Challenge was not what brought the nomadic woman to the city, however. Instead, she found herself on a mission. It was a mission that was a long time coming, one that she had practically dedicated her life to. Knowledge was invaluable and it took many great minds to compile it. Of the nomadic peoples, however, Khadijah found herself among the first. Oral tradition was a beautiful thing, but what good would it serve outsiders who knew not of the hostilities and trials of the desert sands?

It was upon entering the great city that Khadijah mouthed a silent prayer to herself, one of protection and prosperity. She was in unfamiliar territory now, for her people felt little purpose to venture into the cities at all; practically everything they needed the desert, and its spotted patches of refuge, provided. Even as she took her first steps within the city she was in awe at the sights and sounds around her. Never before had she experienced anything so full of human activity and all the excitement that came with it. Most of all, outfitted in her long robes and veil she knew she stood out like a sore thumb. She was truly a stranger and the stares that seemed to follow her every step indicated it. The marketplace came into her head as a possible destination of respite. Traders undoubtedly came from all over. Surely she could claim to be a simple trader, or perhaps just a consumer passing through on the way to elsewhere? Yes, it seemed the perfect plan. absolutely foolproof.

Entry into the marketplace offered Khadijah something at least vaguely familiar. Even her own tribe resorted to trading, but it was nothing like this. There were rows upon rows of stalls and merchants behind them. It stretched as far as the eye could see and possibly beyond. The woman sighed. At best, it was about to become a learning experience and something else to document for her own records that would very well make history within her own tribe. It kept her attentive, although one figure in particular caught her eye. Just off in the near distance was a man, possibly a thief with the way he so eagerly nabbed up an apple while out of sight.

Khadijah chuckled loudly, rather intentionally so, as she kept her gaze on the man. Even if she was not about to admit it he was actually rather handsome. She was as of yet unmarried and knew that sooner or later her father would arrange a marriage for her, as was customary, so what harm was there in a little fun? It was only a shame that she was aging and most of the tribal men preferred younger brides than she. Yet, all thoughts of her marital future seemed to slipped from her mind as she began to entertain thoughts of spending time, no matter how brief, with this man. "Careful not to get caught with that apple." She bantered.

 

[POOHEAD189]

Her eyes were sharp.

Though a relative newcomer to the extravagant city, he still looked far more at home than this beautiful woman. He had never seen her among the crowds of the Pit, nor among the teeming streets. Her apparel was conservative, and yet it hugged her form well to his eyes. A camel cantered between them, drawing a cart filled with bags of grain to be shipped to the Palace for the next day of the festivities, and Harun's gaze was still lingering on hers. After a moment he realized he was staring dumbly, and he smiled, somewhat embarrassed. He placed a finger to his lips, as if to say 'let's keep this between us' and found himself beside her. He didn't even remember making his way across the street. He simply liked the playful fire that danced in her eyes. He glanced around while he spoke, leaning in to to tell her: "I will tell you what. If you don't turn me in, I will share."

He gave a playful wink, and held up the apple for her to take a bite out of.

It was a strange thing, considering not yesterday he had cut into the collarbone of a lumbering northerner with a slab of metal he had been tossed, and now he was almost boyish in manner when he found a girl to speak to. "I'm just taking a guess, but you seem new here." He said to her. He didn't get too close, not wanting to seem off-putting. Truth be told, even past her being cute, he had missed simply speaking to someone he could relate to. They both seemed fish out of water, as the foreigners said. Perhaps the festival wasn't all bad, he thought to himself. He made a sign of greeting with his hand.

"Harun," he remarked in introduction.

 

[Jannah]

There was much to learn in this grand city, of that Khadijah was certain. Already her education had seemed to begin with the way each of the city's residents and merchants carried themselves. Everything was more hurried and busy, unlike the environment she had grown up in herself. There was plenty of movement, yes, but for the most part life remained easy. It was truly only the occasional conflict that stirred her tribe's way of life at all. Even when water was scarce they had learned to adapt. The countless oases were practically lifelines, after all. This place, with its many spires and fountains did not appear wanting at all. In fact, they came equipped for a lifetime. That was an important note for later, one that would lead the woman to explore the city further.

Of course, exploring the city did not seem particularly awful either. The people, especially the men, did appear to take some interest in her. Khadijah felt the thief's gaze directly upon her. She reciprocated his smile, a gesture of warmth that remained surprising in such a busy place where individuals were unlikely to stand out at all. Yet, she had. That stood for something, right?

Even more surprising the thief began to speak, naturally shooting a retort in Khadijah's direction. Surely it was a natural instinct of sorts, a drive to self-preservation. In most of the provinces the penalties for theft were harsh and there was no doubt that a man of this nature was aware of it.

"Luckily for you I have no desire to draw that much attention to myself." Khadijah replied as she reciprocated the thief's wink. Even if this man was not aware of it she had come to the city with a single purpose: to watch and observe, but most of all, study. There was much to record for her people's own histories to add to their own understanding of the world. It was a daunting task, but it was an invaluable one. Most of all, it presented an opportunity for the adventure of a lifetime. Either it was undertake this momentous task or return home, likely to be married off as was inevitable. Naturally, being the curious soul that she was Khadijah had opted for the journey of a lifetime.

It was surprising to Khadijah that this thief so effortlessly approached her. Under any other circumstances she would have turned defensive; hostile, even. Yet, there was something warm about this man, almost gentle. Instinct told her that he intended to do no harm at all, even if she could not rationally explain it. The mind was a mystery that few understood the secrets of so she did not even dare ask. Instead, she nodded as the thief spoke once more, followed up by an introduction. "I'm just passing through." She lied, not daring to reveal the finer details of her purpose in the city. This was a task she had to undertake on her own. It simply felt right. "But if you must know then I'm Khadijah." She did not dare give her full name either, for fear of this thief somehow recognizing her tribe.

 

[POOHEAD189]

The intricacies of her worries weren't lost on Harun, though he could not guess that she had them. The penalty for thieving was great indeed, from losing your hand to your very life. Perhaps it was because he cheated death every bout, or perhaps he did not have many things to live for anyway. Everyday since he could remember, he simply did his best to survive. During his youth when he lost his mother, to his days as a slave, to his sojourn as a bandit. His time at Raghba Shahir was the most comfortable he had ever been in his life, except for that time he had masqueraded as the Master of a House for a day, and yet he still could barely afford to eat. He was tired of scraping his living off the sands and blood of the arena. Perhaps death might be preferable, he sometimes thought. If the stories of the faith were true, it was a reward for a life well spent. What would Allah think of him?

As it stood, he was simply glad to be here, enjoying an apple and speaking to a pretty woman. He used to think he required vast wealth for such simple pleasures, but all it took was a bit of luck (and a deft hand). For his part, he noticed she was a bit less playful now that he had approached, though not uncomfortable. He was not the most suave or charming man, even if he appeared rakish at first glance. It seemed being called a street-rat for most of his life and being spat on from elaborately dressed people did wonders for his self esteem. It was curious he even still had enough confidence to just approach a woman to flirt with.

"You have picked a fun time to pass through, Khadijah," He said, crossing his muscled arms and glancing back at the festivities. If the guards had not interrupted yet, he was in the clear. It looked like he would keep his head for another day, he thought sardonically. "I am not needed by my master until tomorrow, if you need a guide or any help." It sounded as awkward as hell in his ears, and his face flushed a bit. He tried to act like he didn't notice. Hopefully his caramel skin hid it well. "But I can leave you as well if you would wish."

In the distance, the rumbling of great feet and the telltale cries of Elephants echoed across the buildings. It seemed the parade was hitting the larger street, leading toward the Palace itself.

 

[Jannah]

The thief was lucky, indeed. Khadijah simply remained focused on him, saying little else at all. Had she been anyone else she could have easily reported the man to the authorities, but here in this city it was simply not her place. She was an outsider and an observer. The last thing she wanted to do was get involved in its affairs. All she wanted to do was study the behaviour of its peoples and their society, a testament to take back to her tribe. They were eager to learn, particularly now that someone had taken the initiative to gather the information they should have gotten generations ago. It seemed traditions remained static within the depths of the desert sands; was there truly any need to change what had been working well for generations? The way of life of her people, she could proudly say, had remained largely undisturbed. From their myths and legends right down to the greater intimacies of their daily life everything just simply clicked. There was no need to make it any other way.

This man, despite his status of a thief, did remain a curiosity. He was the first introduction to the city, a place where criminals of all sorts supposedly operated. The city life was said to be tougher than the desert life, for few looked out for each other at all. Khadijah knew she had the backing of her tribesmen if anything ever happened. The city folk, though, they bore few connections at all. It was isolating, almost stifling so. Perhaps this man was even just trying to survive in the only way he knew how. Without a support system came poverty and with poverty came desperation. The two fit like hand in glove, and this man appeared to be no exception.

Khadijah frowned as the thief finally spoke, revealing more about his background. His name was Harun and he was not alone. He apparently had a master, which indicated exactly one thing in the nomad's mind: slavery. This man was a slave. It was through sheer good fortune and circumstance that the desert tribes had largely avoided servitude so Khadijah could barely imagine what such a life was like. Those owned by others seemed to have little power or control over their lives at all. Which meant this man had gone rogue? Where was his master and why was he stealing?

Khadijah glanced directly at the man. "Master? So you're a slave..." She uttered with a hint of pity in her voice.

 

[POOHEAD189]

"Slave? No, I'm..." He started, thinking her confused. He had been a slave once in his youth, in another city to the west, but he was one no longer. He was a servant to a noble, an aristocratic patron. Just because he had a master did not mean he was as beholden to someone as he had been when under the lash. However, he still needed the aristocrat to eat, live, work... Perhaps he was a slave in a way, still. There was a modicum of protection given to him, yes. But it still was not a fair trade for services rendered. He sighed, embarrassed. "Very well, maybe I am to one who roams the desert sands, but in this city everyone is beholden to someone. Except travelers of course."

She seemed more reserved now, which saddened him. When he did not work, he ate and did what merriment he could. It was the small pleasures in life that he yearned for, and his curiosity was piqued by this woman. He heard the braying of camels and the tinkling laughter of dancing girls as they paraded about the festival. The young thief was restless, truth be told. If he had known any life other than this, he would have left Raghba Shahir long ago, and maybe this girl was the key to that. Only one way to find out, he thought. He had fled one city, why could he not do so with another?

"Maybe we could call it mutual interest?" He asked, scratching his chin. He kept it shaved for the fights, but it still had the quality of sandpaper. He had a ruggedness to him, but the light in his eyes and the smile he held were very boyish in quality, and Harun held his hand out to her, if she would trust him enough to accept it. "I will show you the city, and tonight you tell me of your travels, and we can act as friends for a day?"

His brow was raised, and the wind kicked up through the street, rustling the tapered roofs of the stalls and causing Harun's hair to sway.

 

[Jannah]

Khadijah chuckled as Harun gave his response. It was a peculiar one, a rather fanciful way to state that perhaps, yes, he was indebted to a master. Maybe he was ashamed of it and simply did not want to view it that way. A sort of coping mechanism of sorts. The nomadic woman could barely blame him, if that was the case. The life of a slave was a difficult one. It was just one of the lessons she had learned during her travels so far. How else could she imagine a life where one had little actual control over their destiny? Everything they said and did was carefully controlled and perhaps not all who took slaves under their wing were benevolent. The woman was actually afraid to inquire into this man's life any further, fearing for the worst.

Something about this man was fascinating even if Khadijah could not quite pinpoint it. She did continue to feel drawn to him. Maybe it was the sense of mystery or the reality that upon returning home she was almost destined to be bound to another man. Either way, this Harun did intrigue her. She nodded as he spoke, giving a rather interesting proposition.

"Are you sure your master would approve of that?" Khadijah asked with a smirk. Harun did not strike her as the type to care about rules at all if he was in the marketplace stealing apples. It was almost like he lived for the taboos and the thrills that would come from being caught fulfilling them. There was no knowing just which sort of quirky adventures this man had been on. Likely they rivalled some of her own but there was only one way to find out, she supposed. It would involve getting to know this man. Additionally, speaking with him was bound to provide all sorts of useful information for her own records, accounts that would forever live on in the history of her tribe. Their own worldview had been limited, but now it was being expanded as the world around them continued to. The rumours of paler men from the North did not go unnoticed. Not by anyone. Of course, Khadijah could not help but to wonder if she would encounter any of the pale men within this city.

"I have seen some stuff, but there is still so much I am yet to experience. I am practically a drop of water within a vast blue ocean when it comes to the things I have seen, that I am certain of." Khadijah explained, "But if you insist then I suppose I can tell you of some of my adventures. I presume you do not travel much yourself?"

 

[POOHEAD189]

Harun felt a bit inadequate, and yet true to himself, still fascinated. She had a cunning to her, much like his own, but still she seemed far more educated and worldly. He grinned at her question on his master, showing just how little he cared as long as it stayed a secret. It looked like she was all for it, at least. He found the idea thrilled him, and somehow a day that he had originally thought was merely a good day for some honest thieving since most of the guards were distracted, became a day that might just be fun for everyone in the vast city, including him. He winked and indicated she follow him with a casual gesture of his hand. They might as well walk as they spoke.

"I did travel," He said, moving aside a drab curtain the two of them could wade through. The wall Khadijah had taken for a building suddenly seemed strange, now that Harun led her through what looked to be an open-air arch window. It would take anyone a moment to realize it was not a building that was apart of the greater city at large. Rather, it was an older structure, far more vast than any other building save the palace, half buried by sand, likely going down a hundred meters beneath their feet. It was now merely a landmark that people like as not tended to avoid, and it would pay to expect such architecture elsewhere in the city as well.

As they entered, they immediately saw a few beggars milling about. One clung to an old sheet and slept in the shade whilst the others meandered and laughed in different tongues. Harun had seen them many times before. One of them gave a whistle when he noticed the two of them, though whether it was at Khadijah or mocking Harun for escorting a woman, it was hard to tell. Harun gave him a look in warning, and the whistle slowed to a halt. Chuckling, the street tough continued with: "But I mostly only traveled twice in my life. Once when I was a boy, I barely remember it. And the second time just a few years back, making it here. That journey was a bit dangerous, but it's been just as dangerous here if you're in the wrong places."

He chuckled as if it was a private joke to himself, and making their way past another chamber, the two of them were suddenly alone among the shadows, Harun stepping onto a stairway where light poured in.

"Up here." He said, with little in the way of explanation. It was clear no one really came this way.

 

[Jannah]

This man, this slave, continued to intrigue Khadijah. He was bound in chains, yet he was free as a bird with how he manoeuvred the city streets. It was a stark contradiction if there ever was one. It led the woman to believe there was more than just a handsome face. There was a story, hidden somewhere beneath the sheets that concealed the deepest crevices of his heart and mind. Perhaps it was a story he had tried to intentionally bury to cope with the reality he found himself in. Slavery was not an easy existence and every day the woman remained thankful that her own people had somehow been spared from it.

Khadijah only found her interest further piqued as Harun made a confession of his own. So he has traveled, surely sometime in the distant past - sometime left forgotten as the desert sands swept over everything in their path. "So you admit it." She commented as she carefully followed in the man's footsteps. He began to lead her somewhere, unquestionably a landmark of some kind within the city. As they progressed the nature of the landmark, a structure of some kind, became increasingly evident.

The structure appeared ancient, perhaps nearly forgotten had it not been for the settlements build up nearby. Khadijah began to imagine all the stories that would have been told there, all the tales that would have been weaved. Perhaps tales long forgotten as their authors left the mortal world one by one - nothing was meant to live forever, if nature had its way of teaching humanity anything.

"This is incredible. Do you know what was here?" Khadijah asked as she took in the sights. She was left awestruck. There was simply nothing like it back home; one factor in living a nomadic existence meant never establishing permanent structures, and certainly not of the colossal nature of those that littered the landscape of Raghba Shahir. There were stories to tell here, history to uncover. It was of the sort that most back home could only ever imagine. Almost instantly the woman knew she had to get her hands on it. Something, anything at all. Fortunately, this man seemed to not be too far off in his own instincts, thus prompting the woman to continue following him.

They were not alone, but it was a problem easily resolved as Harun found himself taking charge. Of course, through her travels Khadijah was now no stranger to beggars and their sometimes rather bold means of getting exactly what they wanted. She stood rather defensively, closing in at Harun's side, as to take the man's protection as the beggar came into plain view. Finally, she chuckled along with the man as they made their way past the last of them, and towards the staircase. Slowly she began to climb up.

Khadijah gasped as she reached the apex of the old structure. A smile formed on her face as she took in the view that she was now gifted with. "I take back what I said earlier. This is incredible." She remarked as she continued studying the landscape below. The city peaked out above the sand dunes and beyond it, probably for kilometers, remained nothing but a perpetually sand filled mural created by none other than the hand of the divine.

 

[POOHEAD189]

Harun marveled with her, though it was numbed from having been here before many times. None to impressed a girl however, only just to enjoy himself. Unfortunately no matter how amazing something was, one got used to these things. He found her awe helped him see it through new eyes, however. Raghba Shahir was an old city from the previous age, deserted through some war or cataclysm. Some said its previous inhabitants had not even been human, but Harun was no scholar. He could only read and write thanks to his master's wishes, not out of any intellectual pursuit. He knew Khadijah was smarter than he was as soon as he lay eyes on her. There was a sparkle in her dark orbs he found attractive, and he couldn't help look at her as her eyes widened with amazement at the structure and the layout of the city from their vantage point. Maybe he found his earlier thought wrong. He didn't know if he could lose interest in that twinkle.

"I don't know, honestly." He told her, wishing he did. Not to impress her... well, not only to impress her. He had been wondering the same thing for many nights. As they overlooked the cityscape, the heat made the men and women below appear like pebbles beneath a creek bed; shimmering beneath them in vast numbers. He wondered if this was how a Sultan felt, surveying such a huge city. He had always just felt like a casual observer, but Kadijah changed his mind in a strange way. He didn't feel as out of place, at the moment. "I heard that it used to be the location of a palace or observatory, but that's just a rumor."

He leaned forward on the balustrade, his broad shoulders and strong arms corded in the noonday sun.

"I remember when I did travel, those years ago. It was scorching some days, and the nights were cold. We followed a traveler that reminded me of you, at least in dress and manner. We paid him in information and what meager coin we had, but it was clear what he wanted was to find something on the road. What is was I don't know, but he seemed intent on looking at the dunes every day to the south, even when we were in the Oasis. It was hard travel, but everyday I always looked forward to what the sun would bring. I can see why one would make a living of moving from place to place."

"But I'm just a street rat, here in the city. And a bull set to fight by night..." He looked like he was about to say more, but the trumpets rose up as the gates to the palace opened, and the parade of elephants, camels, and even ostrich riders strut in the streets. Men sang and women squealed as the prince rode by on his white stallion, waving to the crowd. Harun snorted, clearly unimpressed. "You hungry, Kadijah?"

 

[Jannah]

It seemed everything wasted away eventually, much like the desert sands were always shifting around and washing away remnants of the old. Raghba Shahir was no different. Yet, Khadijah was certain the city remained different from anywhere else she had travelled thus far. It was a mighty city, yes, but also an ancient one. It left the woman wondering just what secrets laid beneath the desert sands that had remained intent on too erasing its existence. What existed now had not always been present, that she remained certain of. What existed now was more modern, a newer civilization built atop an older one possibly long forgotten. There was much to learn here and it became increasingly evident.

Harun not knowing much more about the location than she did...was disappointing. Khadijah frowned. It was truly a shame that whatever there was to learn it was not about to come from this man, a lowly slave and thief. Surely his lot knew the city better than most?

"You don't know? Well, that's unfortunate. Rumours often do not provide the full story, and of course I need something to take back to my people." Khadijah responded with a shrug. If there was information to be gathered then she would simply have to obtain it through other means. Surely there were scholars within the city proper itself, ones that specialized in the ancient history of their world and the secrets that remained hidden beneath the dunes themselves. But how would one go about seeking such an individual out, and without any real means of payment to boot? Not all were so open to bartering as the nomadic woman had quickly learned.

Travel did come with its challenges, yes, but it also came with adventure. Khadijah felt no differently about this particular encounter. It was to be one more. She even allowed herself to smile as Harun began to speak, particularly of his own adventures. He had evidently travelled somewhat, but surely he remained barely a grain of sand in the vast yellow ocean that surrounded them. He was still very much bound to his master regardless of any sense of adventure he possessed. The woman continued to tell herself that before deriving any drastic ideas of her own.

Fortunately sights and things to see made their way directly to the duo. A grand parade made an appearance, one that belonged to none other than royalty. They were all about presentation and this was apparently no different. It stood out as a rather vast contrast to the simpler rituals of the chiefs back home. In fact, Khadijah found herself nearly in awe at the display. She watched from their chosen vantage point, taking in the sights and sounds until the strong waft of sweets began to fill her nose - figures that royalty would arrive with all the delicacies fit for a king, as well.

Harun was apparently on the same wave length, producing a single nod from Khadijah. It was the only indication either of them needed that they were beginning to have similar thoughts.

 

[POOHEAD189]

Raghba Shahir was not yet shrouded in darkness at this time of the evening, but Harun kept them walking down the main roads. There was no shortage of scoundrels within the bowels of the deceivingly opulent city, so great fires were set all along the causeways. It did little to deter the very skilled, but it kept most safe. And of course, even if the light did not aid the unlucky, it still brought comfort to those unused to such settings. Luckily Harun knew just where many of the cutthroats operated, so he knew how to remain safe. It was a sad thought, that the sultan and his emirs did not think much of the security of their citizens simply because they themselves had armed guards. Luckily, just as in every city, some areas were rougher than others, and so Harun took her to a large 'hana' where people could gather, eat, and socialize.

Harun did not know any of the servants or workers here, but he had been here before. Mostly when he could afford it, which was very rare. Luckily he had some extra change from saving, and he was hungry enough not to care about spending it. The pretty girl helped change his mind as well. The building was large, made of sandstone and timber, with two stories. There was a cutout at the center of the structure, where people on both floors could gaze down from the wooden railings and see man-sized, four legged serpents lazily walking about. It was plain that they moved slowly now, but if food fell in they would swarm swiftly.

Their table was set on a slab of stone, as all the tables were. Men in robes of satin and wool spoke business whilst lesser men simply ate, too tired from the day's labors. Many spent their well earned coin on days of celebration, so the place was packed. Various women bartered for different types of wine and there were a few who danced in sinuous patterns upon the tables.

"The trenchers here are good," Harun said, referring to the sandwich-like meals they served. Mostly of pork, lettuce, cheese, and thick wheat slices. But of course, they served much at this hanan. "I'm not usually eating so well. I doubt you can too, most of the time. Being on the road, yes?"

He wondered just how alien this place was to her. He might be poor, but she saw everything in the city for the first time, it seemed.

 

[Jannah]

Another sight meant another tour around the city proper. Although Khadijah had hoped to bask in whichever ancient civilization she was now standing atop of, there was more to see. Much more. Harun made that rather clear as he led her down some of the main roads. She could only presume that he had chosen the route specifically due to the lack of cutthroats and vagabonds so out in the open, seeking to make a less honest means of living. Fortunately they were unlikely to be present in the final destination the man led her to, either.

The square they found themselves in, tucked away into the heart of the city, was bustling with activity. It was a place where celebration happened, business deals were made, and simple relaxation and contemplation occurred. Of course there was also an abundance of food and drink and it was arranged unlike anything back home. Meal time, save for festivities, was far less elaborate and often consisted of a family sitting together inside their tent saying little at all. The much more boisterous meal times here was rather unusual. "Even eating seems like an elaborate affair here. It is much simpler back home. I suppose it is a trade off one must make while living a nomadic existence." Khadijah explained.

When Harun assumed that Khadijah did not eat much while travelling, he assumed correctly. The woman confirmed it with a quick nod. She did eat, yes, but most meals consisted of whatever she could scavenge either from the desert or whichever travelling merchants she happened to encounter along the way to her intended destination. It was not always an easy existence, but she had decided long ago that she would not give it up for the world. Whichever documentation she took back to her tribe would prove invaluable to both the current and future generations. Perhaps even her descendants would be honouring her among the most righteous of the tribal ancestors.

"So far what I have managed to learn about this city is that it is built atop an older civilization, is rather busy and bustling with activity, and that different species are able to coexist here." Khadijah made note of each of her observations as she peered down at the unusual serpentine creatures. She had seen them before, albeit briefly. It seemed they did not like to wander far into the deserts or even beyond their own oases of refuge. Beyond that, though, there was much that still remained a mystery. It seemed it was time to learn just one more bit of information, but first it was time to eat. She was willing to try whatever Harun recommended in this grand city he knew infinitely more about than she did.

 

[POOHEAD189]

"This city does get pretty wild," He said smugly, crossing his burly arms and leaning back in his chair. Of course it was a complete act. He was just attempting to be unamused to impress her, and he was too awkward to really know how. He was used to strutting around like a peacock, but not for a girl. Inciting a crowd that was ready to whoop and holler normally was far easier than a smart, interesting girl who had just as much if not more world experience than he did. Harun had to get a hold of himself, shifting in his seat. "Truth is, the city is pretty extravagant, but you came here at a festive time of year. Believe me, I tend to eat scraps rather than have a night out at a hana. I figured you showing up was a good excuse to."

He rubbed his neck and looked around, hoping one of the servants would approach them. Unfortunately, it was very clear Harun was not a man of means and Khadijah was a newcomer. Men and women with more riches than they were waved their hands about with their coins jingling, drawing the attention of every servant around them. Harun had no doubt they would be served eventually, but he could feel his stomach on the brink of growling, and he knew she would be just as hungry.

As the two waited patiently, the laughter and chatter of the mingling crowd shadowed and hid the approaching Emir and his lover, resplendent in robes of silk and satin, the Emir donning an elaborate headdress that seemed a scaled down reflection of the spires that topped the palace. Gold fixings glinted in the light of the various fires dotting the hall, and he all but glided over to Harun, gazing down at the ruffian past his hawk-like nose and well groomed beard and mustache. Unceremoniously, he snorted as he gazed down at the two of them at their table. The Emir was flanked by guards of middling height and fierce gazes.

"Move," He said simply, expecting complete compliance from two 'street rats.' Harun opened his mouth, and then closed it. He didn't know what to do, and so he tried to speak.

"Your magnificence, I..." He started, but one of the guards strode up and grabbed Khadija's arm, yanking at it with impressive strength to get her out of the chair for the Emir's mistress. Harun moved without thinking, grabbing the guard's arm. The dark skinned man looked at Harun, but his glare was broken when Harun punched him in the face, breaking his nose with an audible 'crack.' He sputtered and fell back, blood dripping. Harun realized what he did the moment after he did it, and froze.

That was a mistake.