And I told Lahn so (after I pulled out a petal that landed in my mouth).
It didn’t get better than that but it was still tremendously cool as Lahn and I rode a sedately walking Lahkan into the city.
And what a city.
It was a hustle and bustle of people; they were everywhere (as were the cheers and petal throwing). And I was not wrong about it from far away. Everywhere you looked, there were windows covered with wrought iron crosses and there were tons of doors. There was one wide road trailing through the city, some less wide ones leading off it but there were a bunch of narrow winding paths or steep, stone staircases that cut through the buildings. Mostly, though, it was all a bunch of buildings clearly built with no city planning in mind. They rose one, two, three, even six stories up, dark wood beams visible jutting into the sky or out the sides from the roof. All of it made from what looked like a cream-colored adobe.
Everything, in fact, was cream. The dirt and stone of the roads (not paved, just natural), walkways, the steep steps and the buildings, all of it.
But there was color. The wash lines that ran from building to building over roads or narrow pathways on which vibrant tops and sarongs hung. There were window boxes and brightly colored pots on small balconies and at the sides of doors that were filled with vivid flowers and trailing greenery (I had to say, there weren’t many of these, Korwahk clearly wasn’t filled with green thumbs – but there was enough to break up the cream, add a splash of color and give your eyes a beautiful surprise). The large squares that opened up off the main road were filled with market stalls that had colored tent tops over tables or striped awnings over stalls. And although most of the doors were bare wood, some were painted green, some red, some blue, some white, some black with blue, white and red stripes and some black (these were warriors’ homes, Lahn whispered in my ear as we rode, their doors painted to match the paint they wore on their bodies).
And the foot of each door held a small pile of blooms, a welcome home (again, whispered to me from Lahn), from the grateful citizens of Korwahn.
And as we road with petals drifting, The Horde that followed broke off when they arrived home or needed to turn down a lane so they could make it home so there were very few left at the top of the smaller plateau where Lahn stopped Lahkan at a double arched door that was painted in black with a glimmering gold stripe painted across them both. The only one with such markings that I saw and I was certain the only one with such markings in Korwahn.
Home.
At the sight of my gold and Lahn’s black on our door, my heart warmed and my belly fluttered. I was nervous and excited. I couldn’t wait to go through those doors and for some bizarre reason, I was scared to death at the same time.
I didn’t get a chance to puzzle through these emotions. Lahn dismounted, he pulled me off and then he took me inside.
It was cool inside; this was the first thing I noticed. The second thing I noticed was that there was a courtyard in the middle that was exposed to the elements and in it, with a beautiful mosaic-tiled base, was a small, gurgling fountain. All around the fountain and courtyard were colorful pots filled with spiked or trailing green plants. There were two stories and every door opened out to a balcony that faced or looked down on the courtyard.
The second thing I noticed was there was an older, slightly stooped, short, round woman approaching us. She had an abundance of coarse, steel gray in her dark hair, lots of wrinkles on her face and a bustling but economical manner.
I knew this had to be Twinka, the house slave Lahn told me about who looked after his residence while he was away.
And she didn’t like me, this I knew instantly, and I wasn’t sure she was all that hot on Lahn for she gave me a nod, Lahn a slight bow then stormed right by us without a word to stand outside the doors, plant her hands at her h*ps and scowl in the direction of the wagons that were coming up the rear.
“She was with my mother and father, this was their home too. She has called this home longer than I have and has spent vast amounts more time here than I have. She thinks of it as her own,” Lahn reminded me of something he’d told me the night before while we were lying under the stars on our hides.
“Mm hmm,” I muttered, staring at Twinka’s straight back.
“She does anything you do not like, I’ll whip her myself,” Lahn muttered back in Korwahk, my eyes snapped to him and Twinka, whose elderly status obviously didn’t affect her ears, harrumphed loudly.
I ignored the harrumph and hissed at Lahn in English, “You will not.”
“Meena,” Lahn said to me then his eyes turned to Twinka and he finished firmly, “kay jahkan.”*
I pressed my lips together.
Lahn’s eyes came back to me and he glared at my lips.
I unpressed them.
Lahn glare melted and he grinned.
I rolled my eyes.
Then Lahn turned to Twinka, “Uvoo kah Dahksahna el cuun, boh. Lee aka lapan ansha bel fahkah yo na geenheeso.”**
“Meena, kah Dax,” she muttered, stomping back our way, “kay pahnsay yo nahna tahnhan.”***
I couldn’t help it, at her muttered, skating on insubordinate words I pressed my lips together as my eyes grew big.
Lahn kept smiling at me.
“If you whip her,” I said in English, “I won’t speak to you for a week.”