He wandered the open roads and found himself in Mehrdadstan, a hot and unforgiving climate for one who wore a beard. He swore quietly on the open road when he realized his skein of water had been leaking the whole way. He usually carried something a little less puncture ready, but he had woken up on the shores of Lake Raienia alone with no money, no spoils. He had to make do with those things he found and those things he made (which considering the materials he scrounged from around the lake were not his best work). His skein was a disappointment and he was only mildly happy to discover he still had a hip flask of burning amber liquid. "Ah, but that was a good year for brewing," he said to no one in particular as he took a large swig.
The road seemed busy today, but he had no real point of reference. He had not yet been to the land of veils and magic. It reminded him of Persia and India, the bright colors and rich fabrics of the passing wagons and the covered women. Nothing got him hotter than a woman in veils and he had no idea why that was.
Scheherazade was out amongst her people today. These walks were far less frequent than her forays into the jungle because, though few of her subjects knew her face, should anyone unscrupulous recognize the queen among them unescorted, there would be a great deal of trouble.
It worried her far less than it should have though. She had her veil should she need to cover her face quickly and after years of these trips, no one had recognized her yet. At ease and wanting to see what her people were up to on such a fine day, she made her way to the main thoroughfare where merchants from the surrounding districts and nomadic tribes were setting up their wares for the day. Already the many smells of spices and perfumes were filling the air and she breathed them in deeply.
And those few women who refused to wear veils, usually married. They got him pretty hot too. One in particular caught his eye and he stared at her rather unabashedly. I'd like to test her out, he thought, thinking on his closet full of dead wives (and the double entendre therein). To his knowledge he'd been married seven times, not eight. He thought this one would make a fine eight. He had a thing for dark haired beauties, foreign or otherwise.
She could feel eyes on her and it didn't take much searching to spot the rather disheveled-looking foreigner with the oddly blue beard. A dark brow arched in curiosity. He stood out like a grain of rice in a bowl of saffron, the second stranger from a strange land that she'd come across in the last few days and she briefly thought of the hunter she'd met in the jungle. The smile that flitted across her face couldn't be helped - and it certainly could be misconstrued by anyone who didn't know her thoughts. But she was unaware that the smile had even been there as she strolled over to the stranger, casual as you please, and asked politely, "Are you in need of aid, sir?"
"Ah, why yes," he replied amiably. "I seem to find myself in this place with nothing more to my name than the flask at my hip and this leaky skein," he added, holding it up and displaying how it dripped when he held it at the right angle (or perhaps it was the wrong angle, though Bluebeard would never bother with the semantics).
"Well, that is a shame." There a hint of a laugh in her voice, amused by this stranger who didn't seem to mind being at loose ends. "I can show you to a tailor who can sew that up properly for you," she offered. "And there are a few wells about that you can fill up from. Both are nearby." She had plenty of free time at the moment; she might as well help him.
"It would be an honor and a pleasure to be accompanied by one so lovely as you," he said, turning up his usual charm. He'd been called a lady-killer for a number of reasons, his sauve moves the least literal of them.
Scheherazade laughed as she started to lead the way. "Are all of you foreigners so flattering. I met a hunter just the other day who was sweet with his words." Though this fellow was far more blatant with it than the hunter had been.
"My lady, I cannot speak for all men. I can tell you that I have always been this flattering and more ofen than not it gets me into all kinds of trouble." He winked and followed in step, happy to observe the busy comings and goings on this road. "May I ask, is your town always to populated, particularly on the roads?"
"You? In trouble?" She gave him a once over with amused dark eyes. "Perish the thought," she teased as she swayed out of the way of a child chasing after his little brother. "To answer your question, the city really isn't all that busy, nor are the roads, unless there's a celebration going on. You've just happened to find yourself on the main market road. It's always busy here, but the side streets," she said as she ducked into one, looking to see if the stranger followed. "They're far calmer."
He kept pace with her and took a deep breath when they entered the calmer side street. "A nice respite to catch a bit of breath," he said. "Certainly good to have a guide in this town," he added congenially. "I don't think I would have guessed to take the side streets for fresh air."
"Fresh air?" She arched a brow at him. "Are the spices and perfumes of this land not to your liking?" It wasn't a recrimination, just curiosity. As a foreigner, she could understand him not being used to new scents, especially strong ones.
"I've smelled far worse things," he said congenially. Being on a ship, out to sea, it was fresh salt breeze on deck and boy stank and the slow rotting of wood below. "It is simply nice to be out in the open air, away from the crowds."
"Ah," Scheherazade said with a nod as she led him deeper into the city. That made sense. There were times when she too sought to be away from the crowds. "So, how did you end up in Mehrdadstan, stranger? And if you don't mind me asking," she added, lips quirking, "What can I call you? 'Stranger' and 'foreigner' can become quite tiresome. Not to mention rude."
"Ah well, I found myself here as a result of my feet." He grinned, amused at his own words. "They lead me where e're they want. As for titles, you may call me anything you like. I am most often known as Senor Bluebeard, or simply Bluebeard if you prefer. I am not often one for prefixes. Do you have a name, dear lady?"
It should have occurred to her that he would ask her name as well; it was only polite. But somehow it had slipped her mind and now she was left on the spot because she couldn't very well give him her real name. She thought quickly, barely a hesitation at all in her voice when she said, "Aziza. My name is Aziza, Senor...Bluebeard?" She grinned. "That's certainly appropriate. I was wondering, how did you come by that beard?" One definitely didn't see something like that everyday. She wondered if he dyed it for some reason or another. Perhaps a custom of his people?
"I would say I was born with it, but that would have been quite the sight and an awful lie. In truth Aziza, when my beard grew in it came in blue. On a boat, at sea. Perhaps the salt water claimed my face as home." He stretched his arms wide as if yawning and smiled. I could claim this place as home, he thought. The air here was decidely commerce driven and the pirate within him was drawn into that.
Scheherazade laughed again; this Bluebeard seemed good at that. "Then this would be the closest I've been to the sea in my life," she admitted as they came to a stop in front of the tailor's shop. "Perhaps I should enjoy it while I can." Again, she wasn't aware of how inflammatory her words could prove to be. "Well, we seem to have arrived at our destination. If you have no coin, I can give you some to pay for your repairs, and a meal or two."
"The sea would certainly welcome you as a regular guest," he said warmly, his eyes bright with mischief. "As for lending me coin, that would be quite gracious of you," he said. "I will most certainly repay you when I have coin of my own."
"No need, Sir Bluebleard," she said with a warm smile. "Your company has been repayment enough." Taking out a small purse heavy with coin, she pressed more than enough gold into his hand to pay for the tailor's services and to pay for lodgings for about a week should he need them. "I'm sure that'll serve you well."
"I am most certain it will," he said, pocketing the gold. He had no real plans, but a pirate was resourceful enough to find money and claim it as his own. "I do thank you for your company Aziza. I should hope to run into you again," he added, dipping his head as if bowing to royalty (which he had no idea he was in fact doing).
"Oh, I'm almost certain we'll meet again," she said with a warm smile as she inclined her head almost regally. "I wish you luck in your ventures here, Bluebeard." She started to turn away, then paused to add, "Oh, if you wish to stay in Mehrdadstan for a while, I suggest to find your way to a magistrate and learn our laws and customs. I'd hate for you to have to lose your head over a misunderstanding." Depending on the crime and the circumstances, she would probably be able overturn any execution order, but best not to take the chance.
Should I ever get caught my lady, I would imagine that I'd have earned my beheading. He smiled just the same. "A kind suggestion dear lady and I might perhaps go there next."
"The tailor will be able to tell you where to find one if you do decide to go," she said with a nod, then turned once more to go. With one last smile, she called over her shoulder, "Good luck to you, Senor Bluebeard." And then she was gone, disappearing down one of the many side streets.
![[info]](http://www.greatestjournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
![[info]](http://www.greatestjournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small}