The city seemed a strange mixture of the familiar and the outlandish to
Astra, Angela and Charmina as they walked through its streets in search of
an inn. Not only had they seen the magically powered (they assumed)
vehicles, and the equally magical opening of the portcullis, but even the
clothes were strange. Most of the women were attired in trousers and many
of the men were wearing kilts. Some of the fabrics were unfamiliar too:
clearly not wool, nor silk, nor velvet, nor leather. Most startling of
all, though, was the wide variety of bright colours, very different from
the dark and often rather "muddy" hues which were all that they were used
to. The city's dyers must be very skilful.
However the first inn that they came to looked reassuringly familiar, at least from the outside. Its sign proclaimed it to be the "Rising Sun". Entering the dimly lit main room, the thick smoke in the air initially made them cough a little. At first they thought that the place must be on fire, but since the patrons all continued calmly talking and drinking they realised that this could not be so. Then they noticed that many of them had wooden contraptions stuck in their mouths, from the bowls of which spirals of smoke emerged. Very peculiar! Their eyes watering slightly, they found their way to the bar, and Astra spoke to the burly man behind it whom they assumed must be the landlord. "We are strangers in town. Do you have three rooms for the night?" "I do. With dinner and breakfast, that will be 5 rials per room." "We are not yet familiar with the local money. Do we have enough here to pay?" Astra displayed the coins, which Charmina had earlier handed over to her. Ignoring the copper coins, the landlord picked up the silver piece and scrutinised it closely. He tried biting on it and then, seemingly satisfied that it was genuine silver, weighed it on a set of scales.
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12/23/2003 10:24:06 AM
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