The Inn of Sa Tassna
originally posted February 19, 2006
"A silver eighty piece," I told him. "Each night she dances.""No dancer is worth so much," he countered, scoffing at me as he dried a wine crater with a clean towel. I remember thinking he looked a little smug."You have heard of the Braided Whip Tavern, which is located in the District of Teiban of Ar?" I asked him. He nodded."Of course," he said, recognizing the name of the establishment. He glanced at the dark haired girl waiting on me. Eyes abeyant, she seemed shy. "However, Keri of Port Kar is a blonde slave. That waif, pretty though she may be, is no Keri of Port Kar."I was not surprised that he knew the name of the tavern, though we were a few hundred pasangs south and west of Glorious Ar. Nor was I surprised that he knew the name of Keri, a dancer from Port Kar. Keri was quite good. Blonde, as he mentioned. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose. They did not afford her a youthful looking demeanor as such a thing can often provide a girl. The filth behind her thickly kohl-rimmed eyes was too deeply set to let anyone, anywhere even pretend for a moment that she had even an inkling of innocence that those freckles suggested. No, the girl beside me was not Keri of Port Kar."You have not heard of Emily?" I asked him. "She who dances from time to time at the Braided Whip Tavern, which is located in the District of Teiban of Ar?""No," he answered, lifting one brow as he turned from me to replace the wine crater on the shelf behind him."Perhaps you recall a girl called Vine, once on the chain of Celenius, Merchant of Cos?" I asked him. He froze. He had not realized who the girl knelt quietly in his establishment was. Though only slaves, Dancers, the good ones, sometimes enjoy a small measure of fame. It does not change what they are, of course."I will pay you a silver eighty piece," he assured me. "Each night she dances."--We arrived in Torcadino just yesterday. It was at the Inn of Sa Tassna that I arranged for the girl Emily to dance. The proprietor convinced me, further, to sing. His musicians, I saw, were tuning their instruments. I noted that the kalika player was particularly good. As he strummed, head bowed over the instrument, he paused at times to turn the small pegs at the end of the neck. I watched his fingertips, then, move more quickly over the strings. By plucking, picking them with varying pressure, sometimes two and three at a time, he created chords that felt tangible in the air around us."He is quite good," I noted."Satrianus..." the proprietor started, answering my implied question."...of Thentis," I finished. I then whistled quietly, impressed. Satrianus of Thentis was well known indeed. I had seen him play once at the Se'Var Fair. A woman near me clawed at her bodice, trying to bare herself as if she'd forgotten or simply did not care where she was. Her retainers had to remove her from the field as she protested, her slippered feet kicking at the air. I recollect laughing to myself, taking a brief ihn to look away from the performance, that she lifted her veils and bit the arm of one retainer viciously. She had felt her submission, the earliest stages of it, in the music that wove its way into her head. She struggled to remain. Her men were good fellows. Obviously, they were well paid. The struggle was futile. If Satrianus of Thentis played the kalika at the Inn of Sa Tassna in Torcadino, I would sing.
"A silver eighty piece," I told him. "Each night she dances.""No dancer is worth so much," he countered, scoffing at me as he dried a wine crater with a clean towel. I remember thinking he looked a little smug."You have heard of the Braided Whip Tavern, which is located in the District of Teiban of Ar?" I asked him. He nodded."Of course," he said, recognizing the name of the establishment. He glanced at the dark haired girl waiting on me. Eyes abeyant, she seemed shy. "However, Keri of Port Kar is a blonde slave. That waif, pretty though she may be, is no Keri of Port Kar."I was not surprised that he knew the name of the tavern, though we were a few hundred pasangs south and west of Glorious Ar. Nor was I surprised that he knew the name of Keri, a dancer from Port Kar. Keri was quite good. Blonde, as he mentioned. She had a smattering of freckles across her nose. They did not afford her a youthful looking demeanor as such a thing can often provide a girl. The filth behind her thickly kohl-rimmed eyes was too deeply set to let anyone, anywhere even pretend for a moment that she had even an inkling of innocence that those freckles suggested. No, the girl beside me was not Keri of Port Kar."You have not heard of Emily?" I asked him. "She who dances from time to time at the Braided Whip Tavern, which is located in the District of Teiban of Ar?""No," he answered, lifting one brow as he turned from me to replace the wine crater on the shelf behind him."Perhaps you recall a girl called Vine, once on the chain of Celenius, Merchant of Cos?" I asked him. He froze. He had not realized who the girl knelt quietly in his establishment was. Though only slaves, Dancers, the good ones, sometimes enjoy a small measure of fame. It does not change what they are, of course."I will pay you a silver eighty piece," he assured me. "Each night she dances."--We arrived in Torcadino just yesterday. It was at the Inn of Sa Tassna that I arranged for the girl Emily to dance. The proprietor convinced me, further, to sing. His musicians, I saw, were tuning their instruments. I noted that the kalika player was particularly good. As he strummed, head bowed over the instrument, he paused at times to turn the small pegs at the end of the neck. I watched his fingertips, then, move more quickly over the strings. By plucking, picking them with varying pressure, sometimes two and three at a time, he created chords that felt tangible in the air around us."He is quite good," I noted."Satrianus..." the proprietor started, answering my implied question."...of Thentis," I finished. I then whistled quietly, impressed. Satrianus of Thentis was well known indeed. I had seen him play once at the Se'Var Fair. A woman near me clawed at her bodice, trying to bare herself as if she'd forgotten or simply did not care where she was. Her retainers had to remove her from the field as she protested, her slippered feet kicking at the air. I recollect laughing to myself, taking a brief ihn to look away from the performance, that she lifted her veils and bit the arm of one retainer viciously. She had felt her submission, the earliest stages of it, in the music that wove its way into her head. She struggled to remain. Her men were good fellows. Obviously, they were well paid. The struggle was futile. If Satrianus of Thentis played the kalika at the Inn of Sa Tassna in Torcadino, I would sing.
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