The Inn
orignally posted January 11, 2006
I stay at this Inn each time I visit Venna. I always request the same room.
From my second story balcony, I can watch the street vendors set up their carts in the morning. The scent of fresh bread wafts up from the bakery right across the street. Along that narrow, cobblestoned road, activity bustles throughout the day. You will see slave girls scurry by with their owners' grocery bundles, hurrying home with the peaches, sa-tarna rounds and other goods. You will hear the good natured haggling over things such as salted fish, flanks of bosk-meat and live poultry. With my window propped, I have a perch on the sill to see it all. It is not, of course, much different than most cities. They all have their market streets, such as Teiban Street in Ar, but the pace here is slower, more relaxed.
Later in the morning, progressing into the early afternoon, those with villas in the gently sloped hills of the Vennan countryside will stroll through to enjoy being amongst others for a handful of ahn. Perhaps they will sip a new varietal from one of many Vintners or even enjoy a tiny cup of steaming black wine at one of the few cafes that stock such rarities. I think I would be happy with that sort of life for a month or even several months out of each year.
It has been a long day, but I have business to attend to. Glancing back into my room, I see that Sandal has finished unpacking a fresh tunic and trousers. It is laid out for me on the edge of the couch. She is knelt before the hearth, removing the kettle from the fire. After a spot of tea and a brief having of my property, I should get dressed and head into town so as not to miss my appointment.
From my second story balcony, I can watch the street vendors set up their carts in the morning. The scent of fresh bread wafts up from the bakery right across the street. Along that narrow, cobblestoned road, activity bustles throughout the day. You will see slave girls scurry by with their owners' grocery bundles, hurrying home with the peaches, sa-tarna rounds and other goods. You will hear the good natured haggling over things such as salted fish, flanks of bosk-meat and live poultry. With my window propped, I have a perch on the sill to see it all. It is not, of course, much different than most cities. They all have their market streets, such as Teiban Street in Ar, but the pace here is slower, more relaxed.
Later in the morning, progressing into the early afternoon, those with villas in the gently sloped hills of the Vennan countryside will stroll through to enjoy being amongst others for a handful of ahn. Perhaps they will sip a new varietal from one of many Vintners or even enjoy a tiny cup of steaming black wine at one of the few cafes that stock such rarities. I think I would be happy with that sort of life for a month or even several months out of each year.
It has been a long day, but I have business to attend to. Glancing back into my room, I see that Sandal has finished unpacking a fresh tunic and trousers. It is laid out for me on the edge of the couch. She is knelt before the hearth, removing the kettle from the fire. After a spot of tea and a brief having of my property, I should get dressed and head into town so as not to miss my appointment.
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