Tasta Goes To Market; I Speak With Mathor
originally posted November 1, 2006
Tasta was fiesty on her leash today. As I stood in the Teiban district talking to Mathor, she pulled at the leash, trying to coax me into walking into whatever direction had earned her excitement at any given moment. Whether it was the call of a peddler, the scent of a whore, the chatter of a jit monkey in a cage, the strains of a fellow playing the double-flute upon his tattered carpet, hoping for coins to land in his waiting cap or any of a hundred other sights, smells and sounds, she was eager to investigate them all. For a moment, my mind drifted to Venna and her chance meeting with The Horned Ubar; that fierce, monster of a tharlarion. It cut an imposing figure with its swarthy, leathery flesh, marked at the flanks and about the neck with orange bars. The bony protrusions above the beast's brow were the most awe-inspiring of its traits, however. As if the teeth, claws and foul disposition were not enough, the animal could gore you with a head butt. Tasta was not impressed, that much I recall. Had her training have been any less diligent, she might have broken the leash and battled The Horned Ubar right there on the mezzanine of the Stadium of Tharlarions. Odd how the mind travels. It was the diligence of her training that had me recalling her confrontation with Venna's Stadium of Tharlarions proudest steed. If Tasta truly wished me to investigate the sights, smells and sounds of the Teiban Market at midday, she could certainly employ fifteen feet of fur, fangs and muscle to press her point. She does little more than voice her discontent with an agitated huff or a vocalization akin to a put-upon howl. Tasta obeys.
"I sent the letter along six days ago," I said.
"He should have it then," Mathor replied.
"Yes," I answered. "I will wait for a reasonable duration of time for a reply and then we shall proceed."
"Very well," he nodded. "You are willing to go to the expense?"
"It is not about the money," I told him.
"Very well," he agreed.
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