Distinction; Specialties; Reminders

originally posted July 26, 2006

Here is a confession. I liked Thentis. I could have stayed there for years, I think, rather than months. It was not the generous accomodations, the indulgent repasts or even the black wine which I will certainly miss. It is the experience of being immersed in another culture. No, the Thentians are not all that different from the average fellow of Ar, but they are certainly not the same. They do not prescribe to the fashions and trends of my city blindly. Of course, you will not have difficulty noting tunics cut as mine is cut or finding a free woman who has her veils arranged in the manner one such as her in Ar would arrange them. Too, the hairstyles and fashions with respect to slave livery in Ar have their influence in Thentis, just as in any other city. The difference is the consideration. I have been in cities that simply seemed like an annexed district of my own. No flavor or culture of their own could was evident. There is a fierceness, a pride in the mien of the average Thentian that I found admirable.
They breed the world's tarns, the monstrous, flying saddle-mounts seen from one corner of the world to the other. They cultivate black wine, the wildly expensive, intoxicatingly aromatic brew that may be found nowhere else on the planet, save, perhaps, as rumored, somewhere deep in the interior of the Schendi rainforests. Wool for tunics, blankets and other such things is provided by the bounding hurt native to the Mountains of Thentis. There is much for the average fellow of Thentis to hang his cap upon. From the western terrace of the House of Clark, it was as if I could see past the Sardar to the Towers of the Morning and further, to the very banks of Thassa. This, of course, despite the crooning of romantic Singers who have stood on that very terrace in the past, was greatly exaggerated. I will say, however, that when the clouds consented to lift, to disperse, I could not hazard a guess as to the number of pasangs that were laid out before me. The planet's great Northern Plains seemed to stretch endlessly.
I love Ar. I ache to return, but I will miss Thentis. I am forever struck with wanderlust, hungry for new places to see, touch and taste. I know that others do not share this passion, at least not with the depth I hold it. Still, there will be reminders. The 'modern art' of my once 'modern woman', Joy, for example, will hang in the great room of Samsara. Smaller pieces, experiments or exercises she completed, I think, will hang in the hallway that leads to my den. They are packed, wrapped in cloths and crated for transport aboard the caravan of Vesutto. The lute, which she worked diligently to learn, too, has been carefully crated. The Six Girl's pottery, vases and such, a selection of them at any rate, have been included with the cargo. Elise and Samantha, though they are unaware of the indulgence, will have the instruments they practiced upon, the tabor and the aulus. It is fitting that they each chose such, as they were chosen to serve at the hand of their mistress, a complementary pair. The tabor and aulus, often, are enough to form an ensemble for such things as slave dance. Many times a musical troupe will not include czhezar players or strummers of the kalika. The swirling, delicate notes of the aulus, coupled with the insistent, pulse like rhythm of the tabor are more than enough to stir the imagination and creativity of an accomplished dancer. And many of my women have improved themselves in this facet. They have learned floor movements, need dances, whip dances and more. Perhaps I will not wait to unpack such things. It might be pleasant to have one or more of the wenches dance for the men of the caravan, Elise and Samantha providing the musical accompaniment. It is something to think about. Some of the reminders, of course, are not as pleasant. I regret not having the opportunity to stage the play. The props, canvasses and costuming, however, have all been crated. I wonder if the proprietors of the Tallux will risk the scandal of allowing the production to play there - particularly after 'Merchant of Ko-ro-ba'.
We are on the south side of the Olni, working our way generally west. Still within the patrols of Thentis, their tarnsmen are silouhetted against the moons each night, high above the trees we camp beneath. I will miss Thentis. I will miss the accomodations of a large house and the amenities a great city has to offer, but there is something to be said for cooking one's meals on an open flame. She tends to that now, pierced Nirah, still rubbing her wrists from the recently removed restraint of the coffle. Others of the chain work at setting up camp; fetching water, erecting tents, that sort of thing. I think I will put the book down for a while, take an auburn maned girl for a walk. Tasta, too, is eager to hunt down her supper.