Markswoman (Asiana #1)(76)
They dismounted outside a large, rectangular two-story building near the main gate with the grand name “Jewel of Kashi” painted on the arch of its entrance. This, Kyra guessed, was the guesthouse where the men of Khur stayed when they were in Kashgar. Certainly they were expected. The proprietress, a middle-aged woman dressed in sober gray, hurried forward to greet them with cups of fragrant mint tea. Two young boys led their camels through the entrance to the open courtyard inside the walls.
Kyra followed the Marksmen into the vast courtyard, stunned by the size and beauty of the blue and white building. The courtyard was surrounded by dozens of stables, housed between elegant arches. The arches were decorated with a mosaic of glazed blue tiles that gave the effect of intricate floral patterns. The courtyard itself was paved with stone, but in the center was a square garden with a well, overhung with olive trees. Sandstone benches lined the garden on all four sides.
Most of the stables were already occupied by horses, mules, or camels. The guest rooms, Kyra deduced, must be on the floor above, arranged along a gallery facing the courtyard. The spicy, fruity smell of the olive trees mixed with the earthy smell of the animals, and Kyra inhaled deep, feeling herself relax.
The courtyard was crowded with people—merchants and traders for the most part, but clan elders were present as well. All talk and laughter faded as the Marksmen walked past, Barkav in the lead. Everyone fell back and gave space for their little party to pass, bowing and murmuring respectful greetings. Kyra could feel their curious eyes on her, and hear some loud thoughts:
Who is this strange girl with the untidy hair?
What is a woman doing with the Marksmen of Khur?
And, worst of all:
What are the Marksmen coming to, dragging their floozy to a respectable guesthouse like this?
Kyra’s cheeks burned with anger but she kept her eyes down. She wished she could disabuse the idiot who had thought that, but now was not the time to reveal herself.
They climbed a marble staircase to the gallery on the first floor, the proprietress bobbing up and down as she showed them their rooms, urging them to call her if they needed anything. Kyra could make out elaborate gold letters painted on each door. Although she couldn’t read the script, Shurik told her that each room was named after a fruit or a flower. Kyra’s room was called Shisqa, a type of date.
It was a relief to enter the snug little room she had to herself, and warm her cracked hands in front of the small fire that had already been lit for the evening. Kyra sat on the wooden chair by the fireplace and regarded her room with pleasure. The arched ceiling was of brown sandstone, and the floor was covered with crimson patterned rugs. A narrow bed was pushed against the wall; it had a thick red and yellow patchwork quilt that looked very welcoming. Here the cold and discomfort of the journey could be put aside, the sandstorm forgotten like a bad dream. Kyra wished she could stay longer than the three days that were left before the clan assembly in Sikandra.
Dinner was a delicious bowl of steaming hot noodle soup, loaves of freshly baked bread, ripe cheese, olives, and roasted nuts. They ate in the dining hall downstairs, attended by a dour and capable old man, who refilled empty plates and bowls without being asked. Everyone ate without speaking, so intent were they on their food, although Shurik managed to wink at Kyra across the table when none of the elders was looking. Kyra ignored him. After a week of millet stew and potatoes, this tasty food deserved all of her attention.
But what washed off the fatigue of the journey was a trip to the bathhouse after dinner. Kyra had heard of these wondrous buildings but never entered one herself. She learned that there was only one bathhouse in the Jewel of Kashi, with separate hours for men and women; the men could bathe in the mornings and the women in the evenings.
At the entrance, Kyra put on the wooden clogs that had been thoughtfully provided so that bathers would not slip on the wet floor. She stripped off her grimy robes and handed them to a female attendant to wash. The attendant bowed and gave her a colorful checked bathrobe to tie around her waist, a thick white towel, a scrub, and a square of jasmine-scented soap.
The bathhouse consisted of three interconnected chambers: a domed “hot” room with a heated marble platform in the middle for sweating, a rectangular “warm” room with alcoves and stone basins for washing with soap and water, and an airy “cool” room with comfortable divans for relaxing, dressing, and maybe having a cup of tea.
Kyra didn’t stay long on the marble platform of the hot room; the steamy air made her feel claustrophobic, although it also loosened her tense muscles. She made her way to the warm room, where a bored-looking masseuse sat on a stool, waiting to offer up her services to the next guest. She perked up on seeing Kyra, who did not have the heart to deny her, although she had never had a massage before and was reluctant to have a stranger’s hands on her body.
But the masseuse was as skilled as she was garrulous, and Kyra soon found herself lying facedown on a stone slab, trying not to drift off to sleep while the woman massaged her aching limbs with fragrant sandalwood oil, and kept up a constant flow of inane chatter. Finally, Kyra escaped into an alcove to soap herself, and the masseuse went to the cool room to prepare mint tea for her customer.
By the time Kyra emerged from the bathhouse, rejuvenated and refreshed, night had fallen on Kashgar. The courtyard was lit with several small fires. Men and women who couldn’t afford rooms clustered around them, cooking food and warming themselves. Kyra paused on the stairs to drink in the scene. So many people. There were even some children, presumably traveling with their families. What spurred them to make the arduous journey across deserts and mountains without the help of doors? Was it only the chance of profit? The livelihoods of many depended upon the markets of Kashgar. But it was a hard way to make a living, being on the move for several months a year, with the ever-present risk of losing your wares and your life.