Lion Head Mesa Hapi

this one's mein was softer than khaba's. yet qiao thought no less dangerous. khaba's forthrightness had set her on edge -- this man, whatever his purpose in the red halls of akashingo, wore courtesy in the manner of a golden cloak.

no, i do not. qiao ushered in a simple smile. but if you would like to walk with me a while, perhaps you can tell me of all that i missed during my travels. she paused between the redstone arches with a deep bow. i am qiao, hemet to akashingo and ramesses' spice-trader.