Dhalooth and I had ended up in Kronlordan. The bamboo spirit's guidance had ended at the fringes of its forest, but if Mei-Juin/Manishi or whatever her real name was had come this way, she most likely would have come through the city to pick up supplies, since there was nowhere else around up here in the mountains.
For somewhere so much on the fringes of civilisation Kronlordan is a surprisingly cosmopolitan place, thanks perhaps to economic ties to Tibrafes. Apart from a shared coinage and mutual defence treaties the two cities are worlds apart. Where Tibrafes sits on a flood plain, Kornlordan perches on a mountain terrace. Where Tibrafes relies on pigs and goats for leather, Kronlordan raises sheep for wool. Where Tibrafes stinks like an open sewer, Kronlordan is cleansed by fresh mountain air. I rather liked it.
An impressive array of goods could be found here too, although the prices reflected the costs of transporting them so far into the provinces. We were sat in a vaulted Emporium, eating cinnamon pastries and watching the bustle of trade in action. Locally produced cloth hung in great swaths from the ceiling in a myriad of colours, like the dressing for a parade of one of the more insane Emperors. Beneath these paraded the predominantly Anhoine citizens of Kronlordan, equally multi-coloured in their dress, trading figs, choi mushrooms, parvin nuts, riberries from Or, tea from Ut'Bharma, reed baskets from the headwaters of the Far Anhoi, greenware, stoneware, earthenware and glassware. A gaggle of vugs were being herded in front of us, their lifeless black eyes showing no sign of awareness.
My attention was on a group of wandering players who were performing a kunubara dance/play. The performance wasn't very polished so they were making up for it by dressing the female performers in extremely sheer wisps of silk, and playing up the more erotic aspects of this particular drama. Dhalooth nudged me and pointed across the Emporium to the offices of a spice merchant. There, in front of a crate-load of saffron, was our femme fatale. She'd cut her hair short and was no longer wearing the cloths of a noblewoman, but I recognised her. A week of travelling and arguing with someone and I don't forget them easily.
I began to make my way over to her and got caught amidst the milling vugs. As I fought my way through the pressing throng of the little orange and purple bald creatures she must have seen me. It seems that the recognition was mutual as she started to head for one of the exits with some determination. Pushing aside triangular heads I made a vaguely apologetic gesture to the vug-herder (getting a far less polite gesture in return) and sprinted after her. She saw this and ran.
We piled down the steps that led up to the Emporium, scattering buyers and sellers alike, me hoping she wouldn't call for help and accuse me of being some sort of sexual attacker. Either she was too shaken to think of that, or she wanted to fight her own battles, but she thankfully overlooked this particular avenue. I was fast becoming lost in the tortuous narrow streets of Kronlordan, and the seemingly endless flights of stairs up and down. I was used to lowland cities, built sensibly on flat ground and as far as I was concerned steps were for inside the house, not for making streets out of. Turning yet another corner to see yet another alley hung with rainbows of flapping cloth, I sensed movement to my right and ducked just in time to avoid a head-high kick aimed from an adjacent doorway. I dropped into a ready stance. Mei-Juin did the same. Weight low and centered on her feet, she was using Butterfly Style. I would have to be careful not to over-extend myself. Without my staves I would have to fall back upon my White Fist training, and that was seriously rusty. I prayed to the Lord of the Four Corners that Mei-Juin was taught Southern rather than Northern Butterfly Style, and was better versed in etiquette than fighting. Somehow I don't think the Divine Emperor was listening.
A tried a few feints to test her. She was fast, moving to block each one but not leaving herself open. I tried the Dancing Monkey combination - tricky but good for catching your opponent wrong-footed. She seemed to buy it, then at the last moment went right when she should have been tricked into going left, caught me off balance and dropped me, using my own momentum to pull me over on my face. I recovered quickly, but not before she had turned and run again. Scraped and bruised I took off after her but at the next crossroads my way was blocked by a herd of tembu being driven to market. Through the legs of the huge shaggy cattle I saw her vanish down another side street.
By the time I got through, she had gone.
(c) 2006 The Creative Conclave.
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