[mark12_30]

Gamba found himself wishing that the sun would go down soon. Many people sent puzzled looks at the dripping Kesha, and when Gamba realised that his green webbed feet were still quite visible, he made Kesha cover them with mud. After that, the looks that Kesha got expressed distaste rather than curiosity. Gamba was none too clean himself; he hadn't been swimming in three or four days. People gave them a wide berth.

"Quiet, " Gamba ordered, as they moved onto the hard road, and Kesha's webbed feet slapped loudly on the stones. "Ow, " Kesha complained. "Well, tiptoe, then, " Gamba retorted. "Can't, " Kesha grumped.

"Hello, " Gamba smiled at a young girl passing by. She drew her clean, white cloak closely about herself, clutched her basket defensively, and looked at his feet with distaste. Kesha gaped at her pretty leather boots laced up to her ankles. She passed without comment; he decided he didn't want to talk to her anyway.

They were approaching the wall. Gamba slowed, looking up nervously. It was large, and circular, and at the gates stood guards with spears and swords. But the gates did not trouble him. He slowed further, coming to a halt, and looked up at the great, towering, circular walls.

"What?" Kesha asked.

"Nothing, " Gamba replied, suddenly terrified by the vast, circular wall towering over him, and trying to hide his terror from Kesha. "Nothing." It's not the temple, he repeated to himself. It looks like it, the round wall, but it's not the temple. It's a city. With an inn, and a place to trade for things. Nitir and Azra liked it here. They said so.

"Are you all right, Lad?" asked a tall soldier, looking down at him. Gamba started, and looked up at the man, who pondered their dirty bare feet.

"Fine, thanks, " Gamba muttered, now more terrified of the man than the walls, and moved on. At first he felt that he was walking to his own doom, and then Esta's last night came flooding back to him, and he shook like a leaf and broke into a sweat. He flinched at every man who passed, and scanned the skies looking for the friendly black and silver dragon. Finally he put his back against the wall, closed his eyes, and fought for self-control, and found just a little. They continued on to the gates.

He wondered whether they would need a password or something at the gates, but to his amazement, the guards smiled at them and wondered what kind of fun they'd been having to get so terribly dirty. "Better wash up before your mother sees you, lads, " one of them said, chuckling kindly.

"Thanks," Gamba said, and led Kesha through the gate, with Kesha trying not to slap his feet on the cobblestones. The guards glanced at each other wondering at his terse, familiar answer, but let it go.

As soon as he got well past the gate, Gamba dodged into an alley, and sat down hard, and to Kesha's shock, rolled up a bunch of his cloak, buried his face in it and sobbed, stifling the sounds and gasping for breath. Kesha stood by him, wondering what was the matter.

"Are you hurt?"

The new voice sent a shock through Gamba, and he looked up to see a young boy staring at him. He didn't answer.

"Should I call the guards? Did somebody beat you up?"

Gamba shook his head, and dashed his tears away. "Who are you?"

"I belong here, " the boy snapped. "You're a stranger."

"I'm going, " Gamba replied.

"Wait, " the boy replied, sensing his adventure slipping away before it had begun. "Where are you going?"

"The marketplace, " Gamba said, "and then an Inn."

"You?" the boy laughed.

With tightened lips, Gamba stood and pushed past him, Kesha in tow. The boy jigged beside him, mischief sparkling in his eyes. "What are you going to sell? What inn are you going to?"

Another boy saw them go by. "Gilthor!" he said, and turned to follow.

Gamba sized the now boy up. "Which way to the market?"

"So you are a stranger." Another boy joined the parade, and another.

"Of course I am."

"How'd you get through the gates? We should call the guards!"

"Then you won't find out what I'm going to trade."

"Weapons?" asked one.

"Gold?" asked the other.

"Jewels?" asked the third.

"Dauran will buy anything, " said the fourth. In another moment, they had entered a wide plaza, with stalls and booths and tables, and people crying their wares and waving their goods.

Gamba stopped in his tracks, and so did Kesha. They gaped. They had never seen so much food-- good food-- anywhere, at any time, in their lives, as they saw spread out, booth upon booth upon rows and rows of booths. Their mouths watered, and they sniffed, amazed at the smells; fresh baked bread, sweet fruit, the strong smell of vegetables-- they were standing next to a booth of cabbages and kale and broccoli. Further down, animal carcases hung, and well beyond that, savory smells wafted by and men and women purchased delicacies and snacks and ate them right then.

Gamba turned. There were more booths. Clothing; blankets; swords; jewellry... his head spun. He had never seen so much expensive beauty, so many lovely things, all clustered in one place. Kesha reached up to touch something beautiful, and Gamba caught his wrist. Trembling again, but for a completely different reason, he turned to the boys. "And where, " he stammered, "will I find Dauran?"

"This way, " the boys replied, and gamboled ahead of him. Several adults shot them suspicious looks, and a few kept half an eye on the gaggle of boys as they passed.

[ December 11, 2002: Message edited by: mark12_30 ]