Unlike women in general, and Zariyah in particular, the ‘game system’, or whatever it was I had been given, was more comprehensible. My condition, broken down into numbers, could be understood at a glance and I saw that, already, my Health was steadily ticking back up, due to my Minor Regeneration. Iasis’ blessing was most useful indeed, but what would be the price of it? That aside, it would do nothing for my clothing, torn now in places, but that was a minor annoyance at worst.

Moving together with the flow of the city, we arrived at the Grand Bazaar, a spectacle of raw capitalism at play. The air was filled with the cacophony of merchants, their voices slicing through the noise, boasting of their goods as though narrating epic tales. Amidst this, men and women engaged in spirited haggling over exotic goods, their exchanges resembling a playful pantomime. Money changed hands, sealing deals where the line between victor and vanquished was blurred. The Bazaar also unleashed a barrage of scents upon me; the heady mix of incense, spices, and the unmistakable presence of animals and humans. A potent blend that threatened to overwhelm my senses.

Immediately I was mobbed by a gaggle of children, pulling at my sleeves. They entreated me to visit this stall or that, promising, of course, the best of prices. I shooed them all off like the annoying tenacious gnats they were.

Please, for the love of the heavens, try not to cause any trouble here. And be careful of your purse, there are pickpockets and thieves here on occasion. An obvious foreigner like you would make for an easy mark, Zariyah advised, turning to me and displaying a hint of a grin.

“Quite,” was my simple sardonic response.

Escaping the mob of children, we ventured forth into the Bazaar proper. The people were garbed in all manner of clothes. Vivid hues jostled with somber blacks and resplendent whites in a tapestry of visual discord. There was no organization to the Grand Bazaar, no rhyme or reason. Beside a stall brimming with exotic fruit and vegetables, a jeweler displayed his wares. A gemstone, set in a filigree of silver chained to the stall, shone like a captive star. A few paces further in, a book stall sat next to a display of weapons of various quality. Each merchant, a lord of their small domain, competed for our gaze and coin with cries and enticements.

I had no need of more weapons to cut, bludgeon, and maim with. Instead, it was the collections of paper, papyrus, vellums, and parchments for sale that drew me.

I gazed over the display of books and scrolls, ignoring the merchant until my eyes alighted on a leather-bound tome. The old book was worn with age and the stain of time, but the title could still be clearly read, ‘The Fanciful Travels by Beron de Laney’. Beron, I had seen or heard that name before…

The book caught my interest, and I was in dire need of new reading material. I gestured for the bookseller to come over, and tapped the book.

“I see you have an excellent eye and impeccable taste. That fine volume is a rare treasure, indeed. One and a half shekels, silver, for you samasa,” the book merchant proposed in a reedy voice.

He was an old man, his beard mostly gray going white. His face was pitted and lined, and he looked to be of the same age as some of the ancient books that he sold. Long, lank hair fell from the edges of a small bright red hat, similar to a Moroccan Fez. As he took off his spectacles, I saw that his eyes were rheumy and unfocused. More to the point, I was happy that he made no comment about my somewhat shambolic appearance.

“I saw another copy at another stall for half the price,” I countered smoothly.

“Bah, then you would have been better off throwing your money into the sea. This is a genuine, printed from the presses of Quas. Look, see here,” boasted the old man, tapping at a small mark on the spine.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

“But at half the price, surely the contents would be the same?” I ventured.

“Those copies be made by hand, and prone to error more than not. A misspelled word here, a different turn of phrase there, and a new part added to satisfy a calligrapher’s vanity. You would be better with a genuine article. Still, they might make for a prettier piece, but a book made by the presses is a more perfect copy of Laney’s original words. One and a half shekels is more than a fair price for his wisdom,” insisted the old man.

I looked at him bemused, for it was odd that a mass-printed book was worth more than a hand-copied one. What sort of logic did this world operate on?

In accordance with local custom, I handed over a promissory note worth ten silver coins. I was almost surprised when he handed back to me the correct amount of change. It was a first for me, and I did my best to hide my surprise as we completed the transaction.

We parted ways with a small formal bow to each other, Zariyah mirroring me soon after, and walked further in.

A seller who traded in all manner of animals bade us look at his stock. All of them were colorful creatures of paradise, of feather and scale. Birds with long plumed feathers, and frilled and maned lizards whose scales shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow. It would have been a wondrous sight, but I saw the frustration and melancholy in their eyes. Trapped in cages and robbed of their freedom, their futures were bleak, at best, and this turn of thought robbed the experience of its wonder.

Pressing on a little past, we saw that there was a section exclusively devoted to the sale of beasts. A strong animal scent filled the air, and the cries of a variety of animals both familiar and unknown could be heard. The whinny of horses, the barks of dogs, and the rumble and hiss of lizards all mixed into a chaotic cacophony.

All manner of beasts can be found in the Grand Bazaar of Al-Lazar, Zariyah shared with me. The smell in this section is most pungent, I hope you are not planning to take a closer look, she inquired, curling her nose in distaste.

In response, I raised my hand, just scanning the area for beasts I had yet to encounter before. I smiled when I saw a creature reminiscent of the Ceratopsians of Earth’s past. However, this specimen boasted six legs and was sheathed in a far more formidable armor. Thick, bony knobs and plates adorned its back and flanks forming an almost solid shell. It dragged behind it a tail that ended in a fearsome array of solid bone spikes. Upon closer inspection, it bore a striking resemblance to a gigantic tortoise, though it possessed a bony frill and a single horn jutted proudly from its snout. A bony ridge, or cervical, extended just behind its thick frill, where a boy with a serious demeanor rode atop the creature. Burly men, bare-chested, gently prodded the creature's flank with long poles, guiding it toward the gate of its pen. With a bit more urging, the beast moved forward, issuing a low, mournful bellow that seemed to resonate with a sense of resigned acceptance.

“What manner of creature is that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. It had been an awesome sight. Brave, indeed, must have been the first men to tame such a beast.

You have never seen Lumashitu before?

“No, but we have creatures somewhat vaguely similar to it, though nothing close to its size. A rhino, or perhaps a small elephant, would be the closest modern analog. Though there are precious few of them now. An ignorant people believe that their horns hold medicinal properties so they have been hunted to near extinction. There is about as much magic and medicine in their horns as there are in my fingernails,” I commented, a bit of bitterness edging into my tone.

I see, of course, you haven’t. Well, these creatures come from the jungles north of here. Remarkably resilient creatures, they are as comfortable working the farm fields as they are charging across the battlefields. They command a hefty price, yet despite this, the Council of Al-Lazar boasts a unit of Lumashitu cavalry. Their charge is legendary, said to be unstoppable, came her explanation, a small bit of pride coloring her manner.

That one, by its size, is a female, she finished, pointing at the docile Lumashitu. Her nose wrinkled as if she had found something distasteful.

Offering her a wry grin, I was unable to resist a playful tease, "Is that so? No wonder it was so stubborn about doing what it was told."

Yes, yes, but please can we go now? she beseeched, almost pouting in resignation.

“Yes, as the lady commands,” I stated, giving her an exaggerated bow.

Surprisingly, instead of rolling her eyes as I expected, she gave me a formal curtsy in response. More importantly, she smiled at me, and I felt my heart beat just a little faster.