The Curtains Rise [Fashion/NoM]

Shading herself from the Sun's interest, Zubaidah watched Tisifun unfold her beauties from beneath her Cinder Parasol. Before her walls, the Ash Company pushed their horses and mules into a canter over the sun-scorched plains of Parthevia. At last, it was time for their final push into the Parthevian frontier, but she was more interested in showing off her homeland to her friends and colleagues. And so, as they drove along the dusty merchant roads, Zubaidah let them soak in Parthevia’s sights.

At first, forests of date-palm waved their tantalising dance. Then domes and spirals from multi-coloured temples, adorning each corner of the peach-coloured walls. But over them all came the eastern mountains, emerging from rain-bloated clouds, and revealed the snows that would soon melt and set every southern river aflood.

Further down, the town began to show limits to the east and west where, at first, there was nothing but haze. One or two caravans passed the caravan, northward bound, their leaders hoping against hope that the haze would not stand between them and the Osterian outpost, where profits upon profits could be made.

By this time, Zubaidah could see the painted walls of Tisifun more plainly, with towers here and there, ruinous as the paintwork. Storks' nests were strewn about the battlements, their red-legged inhabitants fulfilling the duty of sentries. To the right, beyond the town, there stood the great rock where the Mansur had once held parliament. It was now covered with blue and gold murals, her name written there at the Nazairi’s hand, but Zubaidah could not forget the graffiti which had once been sprawled upon the bare rock.

But soon the view was lost in the date-palm forest, through which streams of the Urkadi river murmured and babbled over dark-red earth. Even as she looked for the blue-gold rock long and hard, Zubaidah was distracted as soon as a kingfisher or dragon-fly, a ray of living light, flashed over the shallow waters and taught some young storks the first lesson in looking after themselves.

They rode past the low-walled gardens, where pomegranate and apricot trees were flowering, and exotic birds sang in the deep shade. Doves flitted from branch to branch, bee-eaters darted about among mulberry and almond trees. There was an overpowering fragrance from the orange groves, where blossom and unplucked fruit showed side by side; the jessamine bushes were scarcely less fragrant. Dense fig-trees called every passerby to enjoy their shade, and the little rivulets born of the Urkadi winter-floods were fringed with willows. It was so delightful that the Ash Company drew rein and listened to the plashing of water and the cooing of doves for some time, trying in vain to recognise the most exquisite among many sweet scents.

Under one of the fig-trees were three street-vendors at lunch. A carpet was spread before their food-carts, a copper kettle front and centre, whose charcoal brazier was tended with enthusiasm. Judging by the earthy aroma, it seemed the chipped kettle was filled with fine green tea, something reserved for themselves and not customers, but they were soon left behind with a wave or two.

Past the rows of trees and street-vendors, the Ash Company crossed the Urkadi river. The bridge which they had crossed was renowned for having thirty arches in total, flaking paintwork marking them as Tisifun’s, but the houses stacked around each arch showed that it was sturdy as stone. On the other side, where the gardens ended and open market-squares led into the gates, a small group of children gathered to watch Zubaidah with an interest that showed familiarity with their trademark. She waved at them with good cheer before joining the rest of her caravan down the main road into Tisifun, driving through the brass-covered gates that had withstood both Reim and Heliphaopt.

Inside the so-called Bassid gates, narrow streets with windows on windows greeted the Ash company with smiling faces. Zubaidah returned their warm welcome with her own, brimming with enthusiasm and love for her native Parthevia. Indeed, where the gates might have been the entrance into Tisifun, these Parthevian smiles were the true welcome.

As the week came and went, the Ash Company settled into pink-hued Tisifun as a home away from home. Batuttah had rented them a small but furnished estate, room enough for all the personnel Zubaidah had brought, and near the homes of local contacts. As for the caravan itself, the camels and lush wares were settled outside the Nazairi street-markets. Each day, Zubaidah negotiated further with the Parthevian vendors, now accustomed to their Reiman goods. Each night, storks and camels made their bed around the red-topped stalls, watching Tisifuni artisans deal in the Ash Company’s wares.

Once a new week arrived, however, their routine was broken with good news. After all, Zubaidah had asked the Ash Company here for more than down-time. And so, when a messenger brought news from the Collia estate, Zubaidah was ecstatic.

For her, a meeting with Collia ibn Al-Athair was the Ash Company’s chance at establishing Tisifun as a permanent head-quarters. He held Parthevia’s economy in his hand, and his aid would solidify relations between Tisifun and her Reiman trade-bloc without question.

Thus, dressing themselves in garments spun in the Nazairi street-markets with their wares, Zubaidah and her entourage arrived at the Collia estate. Standing before his blue-gold gates at the time appointed, the Ash Company found the old Parthevian merchant waiting in welcome. He wore a fine linen shirt of dazzling whiteness, and carried a scarlet geranium in his hand for his honoured guest Zubaidah.


With no more introduction, he brought the Ash Company down a long and oak-furnished corridor, crying aloud as he went, 'Make way, make way for lady Mansur!' After all, Parthevian tradition tells that one’s household should not look upon a stranger's face before they have been entertained. Yet some few lights of Collia’s hareem were not disposed to be extinguished altogether by considerations of etiquette, and passed hurriedly along with vanilla and cinnamon trailing in their wake.

The women of the household satisfied their curiosity openly, however, until Zubaidah’s host suddenly commented upon the washing and weaving. They made haste to disappear for a time. Then they returned a moment later, peeping around corners and doorways, with giggles and a scream - as if they had never seen visitors before.


As they discussed banal matters, Collia passed from room to room of his great establishment and showed Zubaidah some of its treasures. There were great piles of carpets and vast quantities of furniture that must have looked out at one time in their history upon the crowds that had gathered about the old Parthevian capital. She saw chairs, sofas, bedsteads, clocks, and sideboards, some from Reima and others Balbadd. Brought on camels and cruisers and steam-boats, they stocked the walls and shelves with Collia's lifetime of achievement.

Though it was clear that Collia seldom saw half the rooms through which they hurried, the passion for building, that seizes all the nouveau riche, held him fast. He was adding wing after wing to his vast premises, and would doubtless order more furniture from Reim or Balbadd to fill the new rooms. After all, no merchant knows when it is time to call a halt and deem his house complete, for no merchant knows how many gifts their patrons might bestow.

So it was with his gardens, whose figs and twisting grape-vines the Ash Company would dine upon for the next week. Each acre was filled with some rare and exotic fruit, granted by some nameless patron, extending past the walls of Tisifun. Indeed, there were so many acres that Collia could not reap it all in harvest-time, so he allowed Tisifun’s citizens inside during the autumn so that they might fill themselves instead.

His estate duly exhibited, Collia led the way to a circle of diwans in a well-cushioned room that opened onto the garden. Each member of the Ash Company was assigned their place in the circle, with Zubaidah sitting next to Collia himself. As they settled into their diwans, a steward brought into the centre a marble bowl filled to the brim with a savoury stew of chicken with sweet lemon and olives. Inviting the Ash company to eat their fill, Collia began to address Zubaidah.

‘Let me be brief, lady Mansur,' Collia passed around a traditional Parthevian guest-drink, fermented from his fig-trees, ‘I admire your ambition.’ As she received the strong and transparent drink, Zubaidah raised a toast to her hospitable host. ‘It’s an ambition that I share.’


‘But it is not one so easily achieved.’ His face did not show much optimism, staring with wistful eyes at the marble bowl in the centre. ‘You were here in Tisifun before, were you not?’

‘It is but a fragile seashell, soon to crack should anyone step on it.’ Taking a fresh pistachio from his steward, Collia held the dried husk to the noon-time sun, ‘I’ve glued the fractures together for now, but should even a pebble touch it in the wrong place?’ With just two fingers, Collia split the pistachio shell in half, letting the bright-green kernel fall into his other hand.


He paused for a second. ‘I have poured all the funds I’ve got into Tisifun, but money alone is not enough.' He paused once more. ‘I have indeed heard rumour of what you’re planning, but I’m also uncertain if your plans are enough either.’ Then he ate the pistachio kernel.

‘So prove it to me.’ He handed Zubaidah a basket filled with pistachios, each unshelled, with another glass of alcohol. ‘I shall give you five days to prove your worth.’

Day one: present basic outline of a Tisifun-based fashion industry.

Zubaidah was well-prepared for Collia’s request, meeting with Ash Company personnel so that they could compile details about the Reiman trade-bloc. She had discussed the matter of using Tisifun as logistical head-quarters long and hard, and Batuttah helped her condense the details of how the trade-bloc would rejuvenate Parthevia into one comprehensive document. Indeed, she practiced the presentation with him so much that even the Ash Company was impressed with her final performance. But Collia was even more so, inviting them to stay for a lavish dinner.

Day two: prove how the Ash Company has improved rates of commercial trade in Tisifun.

With the presentation done, she brought her chief strategists Khalid and Hailanah to converse with the Collia estate. Ever since the negotiations with the Luddi tribe, they had been stationed within Tisifun in anticipation of the Ash Company’s arrival. Over the last few weeks, they had ingratiated themselves into Tisifun’s bureau of commerce and monitored trade between Reiman and Parthevian merchants. With more than enough information, they prepared their own presentation on how the Ash Company had improved trade in the Nazairi street-markets and Tisifuni merchant companies.

Day three: show goods from the Nazairi street-markets and compare with local Parthevian goods.

Having proven the street-markets were profitable, she needed to show Collia the garments they were making. Inviting him to a weaver’s workshop, Zubaidah outlined the different materials they were working with: wool, silk, cotton, leather and more. A patchwork of white and browns filled the space, artisans and craftswomen transforming basic materials into fine garments. For Zubaidah, it confirmed that the Reiman trade-bloc had provided the finest material the Nazairi could work with. For Collia, it proved that Tisifun had the skill and talent necessary to turn the pink-hued city into the Parthevian cultural capital.

Day four: present future business plans for an expansion into southern Parthevia.

There was not much persuasion needed for Collia to agree that some Nazairi should be selected as specialists for Tisifuni haute couture. He had seen their dresses, some airy for summertime and others skintight, watched them weave bespoke suits and admired their handiwork in skirts and coats and handbags. He believed that the Nazairi were key to making Tisifun a centre for Parthevian rejuvenation, but he was uncertain himself about expansion. Well, he was uncertain until Zubaidah directed a presentation to him about how the Al-Layh merchant company had discussed the want for fine garments with south Parthevian traders.

Day five: discuss how much investment required for transformation of Tisifun into a fashion capital.

She had asked Rafi to aid her in calculating the money required to turn part of the Nazairi street-markets into specialist workshops and install more permanent shops at the bazaar inside the Bassid gates. Satisfied with the sum they had calculated, Zubaidah entered the Collia estate on the final day and began her presentation on -

‘You’ve proven your ambition is achievable, lady Mansur.’ As she readied herself for more hard work, Collia invited her to relax upon a lavender-scented diwan. ‘You mean…’ Asking for some mint tea, he allowed Zubaidah to rest her sore feet. ‘My money’s yours.’


‘I hear you’ve consorted with Amakh.’ Once she had rested herself, Collia beckoned that she should join him outside amongst the oak and orange-trees. ‘If they’ve made their move, I want to prepare my men in case things go south.’ As they came to a small clearing, he introduced Zubaidah to some well-armed men, each equipped with swords and polite smiles. ‘Ah, you want to see what you might be up against?’


She goaded the first guard into attacking her first, meeting his Advance with a Henam Guard, before she transitioned into her own A Tier lunge attack with Al Lat. As two more guards came for her, she distracted them with a Directed Defefence, throwing them aside. Once she did that, however, she was caught unawares when another guard made a Challenge towards her. Hoping to catch him off-guard, she threw some cosmic darts at him and side-stepped his blade, before moving into Nebenhut Stance and pinning him to a nearby orange-tree. As the remaining guards readied themselves, however, Collia clapped his hands and bellowed,


‘It is clear how Amakh has tutored you.’ He seemed more than content, a wide smile painted across his weathered face. ‘But this was never about Amakh, was it?’ His gaze lifted from her spear-arm and showed a wider smile than before. ‘You were looking more at my spearmanship than anything else.’

‘Well, I wasn’t exactly telling lies when I said that I was interested in how they had affected you, Helping one of his guards from the ground, he patted them on the back and sent them stumbling down the sun-soaked orchards, ‘But the truth is that I wanted to see that Mansur spearmanship again.’

‘As you know, I was business-partners with your grandfather.’ As he led them inside, Collia pointed towards a model ship emblazoned with the Mansur crest. ‘His spear saved my life more times than I can count.’ His smile faltered when Zubaidah saw that the display, the Al-Athair flagship known as 'the Stork', had lost its model sails. ‘When he was gone, your father ensured that our relations only bettered.’


‘I am grateful that I could see their spearmanship once more.’ Turning back towards Zubaidah, Collia requested a servant serve her some Tisifuni pastries. ‘Even more so that Tisifun houses the Mansur head once again.’ As she accepted a golden-crusted pastry, Zubaidah saw Collia’s smile return greater than before. ‘But I am most grateful that you have fostered so capable an organisation as the Ash Company.’