Dragon Horse

To wake himself up a bit he shook his head and ran his hands through his thick, brown hair which he grew long to cover up a deformity from birth which had left him with only one ear. It didn't bother him, he could hear perfectly well through his good ear, but all the same he liked to keep covered up the little stub of cartilage that marked where his other ear should have been. Right now he wished he could have his head shaved – it would have been a lot cooler in the heat which had already started to get uncomfortable, and it wasn't that late in the morning either; his linen tunic was damp with sweat and his feet were slipping and sliding in the light leather sandals he wore... where was Kan? Typical of him to leave an excited message and then not turn up.

He watched the steady stream of people making their way to the Grand Bazaar - absolutely everything from all over the Empire was bought, bartered, sold and exchanged here: a family of cotton traders went by, staggering under the swaying rolls of the material strapped to their backs.

Trading, buying and selling was the city of Maracanda's lifeblood. It was Rokshan's family's business, and hundreds of other's too. He helped out whenever he could get time off from studying, and loved to sniff out the bargains in the market when the caravans came in from the East, or on their way to the Imperial capital from the West.

Rokshan's family traded not only in cotton but also damask and silk, spices, herbs and garden produce. They bought and sold everything for the home too: tables and chairs, cupboards, couches, altar pieces, earthenware pottery goods and finest porcelain tableware for the richest merchant's table.

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