Ajoran laughed as they walked, still a little shaken from the whole experience. He'd never seen anything like it before and was still reeling. "I'd have a hard time believing it doesn't annoy her...my Isfahan is not exactly patient..." Ridahne jestingly glared at him and tried to swipe at him with one hand, but the man danced away skillfully. Both of them wanted to duel again, they just hadn't found the right time to do it yet. Darin had seen Ridahne in action, but that was always in anger, in the rage of real battle where blood was on the line. She had yet to see poetry in motion, the delicate dance between sparring partners who were well-matched and well-trained. She couldn't wait to show her.
"I've gotten used to it," Ridahne admitted with a sigh and a small smirk. 

As they left the palace, a group of eija posted out front dipped their heads at the trio as they passed. Had the situation been different, the Sols would have insisted Darin be accompanied by a contingent of guards. But considering her current company was a taja, and [I]the seed guardian[/I], who was a highly trained member of their own order, it wasn't necessary. But security was tight around the palace anyway--tighter than usual. The road to the market was busy with people passing by in every direction holding baskets, crates of goods like ink pigments or neatly folded nets, clay pots and jars, and fish wrapped in palm leaves. The Tasen market was a common place for foreigners to come, so Darin's presence wasn't entirely unusual. Ridahne was noticed, though. 

People seemed to immediately identify her as eija from a black tattoo around her left bicep. And she might have been somewhat avoided, even if only to give her a respectful amount of space, had it not been for the silver circlet around her forehead. In a culture that was accustomed to looking at people's faces, the thin metal band was instantly noticeable, and it gave many people pause. Someone wearing a nimarih must be important, indeed. And then they'd see her ojih, and a quick shift of emotions would cross their faces. Horror, confusion, bewilderment, and sometimes anger. A significant portion of people seemed to understand from these clues just who she was, though due to the nimarih, no one confronted her. She still felt their stares, though. And the sneers and glares. [I]If they had any idea...[/I]

While Darin perused the wares, Ridahne would occasionally whisper in her ear and explain an item, or would tell her if the price was too high, but she let Darin explore. She gathered bits of news from traders, too. But mostly, she strode shoulder to shoulder with Ajoran, following behind Darin. She was just glad to be with him. Ridahne did note, with some interest, that the people they talked to did not remember Khaltira's name either, and it was generally agreed that Hanasa-Sol was doing well and had the favor of the people. For that, Ridahne was glad. For all that she had been burned by the Sol, she still believed in them and their importance, and in the good that they could do if they did their jobs well. 

Darin asked about the children, and Ridahne laughed. "Did they now? Give them here, let's see..." She took the black one between her slim fingertips and held it up to the sunlight. The little chunk of polished onyx had a translucent quality under strong sunlight, though it could not quite be seen through. Ridahne handed it back. "They're just gifts. Small offerings. Many of their parents are probably stone carvers, and they will often take the little bits that cannot be otherwise used. Children trade them like tokens sometimes. Most of those children likely don't have much to offer anyone, either. I never did. So this is what they have. Stones, bones, shells, maybe carved bits of wood. Do what you like with them. If you want, they can be strung onto a necklace or bracelet. But it seems the children of Azurei like you, and I suspect they know who you are somehow. If they do, word will get around. Everyone knows street kids are a reliable source of information, and they can be easily bought. We'll just have to hope nobody too heinous finds out...I don't feel like bloodying my sword today, if I can help it." 

They made their way further in, and closer to the port. As they did, the wares became less clothing and baubles and more spices, fruits, meats, and fish. The people milling around had a different look to them, too. Though they wore different clothing than humans might, usually uri, it was not hard for even a foreigner to see that these people were working class laborers. Their ojih were usually more simple, like Hadian's, and their hands were rough and strong. 
"If you want to speak to Istaerih, I might suggest getting at least a dinghy to row out into the bay. I'm sure if we [I]ask nicely[/I]" Ridahne said, rubbing two coins together, "someone will let us borrow one."