The cerulean waves lapped at the breakwater without enthusiasm. The settlement glinted white as the blazing sun shone of the sandstone. Kashvi Singh stood on the prow of the trading dhow as it coasted in on a gurgling wake, it long lateen sail billowing in the fitful winds. Desert coasts were notoriously fickle for winds, but Jaseem knew his business. He might be a reeking black toothed old sea dog, and odds were he turned corsair whenever he liked his odds, but he was a fine seaman. That worthy worked his way forward to where Kashvi stood, arm wrapped around a spanker stanchion. 

"It is a beautiful sight Jaseem," she said, gesturing expansively to the the town with her free hands. It was true, green palms waving across white washed walls. The familiar domes, a hallmark of Banegorhan architeture put her in mind of her homeland, though not as much as the scents of spices and curry simmering and goat roasting. It had been a long time since she had seen Banegorha and this little piece of it tugged at her soul.

"From here perhaps," Jaseem said, his voice sour and bringing with a blast of arak scented hallatosis. Well, if the worst threat she faced on a voyage was a fragrant companion, she could do worse.

"Up close we will be treated to the aromas of rotting fish, mixed with dung of all varieties and an undertone of trash baking in the sun."

Kashvi leaned back and laughed as the dhow cleared the breakwater. There was no guard ship and no customs launch, though a variety of dug out canoes were already pulling hard for the oncoming ship, oars digging at the calm waters of the harbor like irritated water beetles. Dirty ragged vendors held up fresh fruit, stale fish and clay pots filled with arak and honey, screaming the quality of their wares at the top of their lungs. Some of the boats contained whole families, ragged children   hawking wares while sibblings gripped weather worn tillers with calloused hands. Sex partners were on display also, drab and dejected creatures in faded and stained finery. They did not look particularly appealing to Kashvi, but hope, apparently, sprang eternal.

"No booze or boobs till we are tied up you curs!" Jaseem roared back along the length of the deck. His crew, many of which had been drifting to the towards the railings.

"Besides," the captain went on in more conversational tone, "I haven't paid anyone yet, and if anyone has a sheckle to scrape together my name is not Jassem al Hassan. Kashvi snickered, she didn't doubt it, but then they weren't her crew.

_____

The world lurched beneath Kashvi's feet as she stepped off the gangplank. Landsickness was an occupational hazard, after three months at sea, it would take her a couple of hours for the lack of a rolling deck to become normal again. She waved to Jassem, touching her purse by reflex to make sure the old pirate hadn't taken her last sheckle as a parting gift. Pirate or not he had been right about the smell. Up close it was all beggars, sewage and rotting fish. All the world was beauty Kashvi had been taught and she truly believed it. Admittedly it was a little more difficult to see that beauty while stepping over shit, but it was there.

Without conscious direction she began to climb towards the palace, the atmosphere improved markedly as spice shops replaced fishmongers and the quality of inns rose. Market stalls gave way to neat cool shops selling brassware, sweat meats and all manner of other items that cost more than the pitiful handful of coins that the Jaseem's of the world left in a sailors pocket. There was a surprising amount of greenery, mostly palms and a few sick looking figs. Unexpectedly they made Kashvi think of tamarin trees, and her mouth puckered at remembered sour snacks in her youth. A broad smile began to creep across her face. Truly the world was a wonder if one looked at it the right way.  Before to very long she found herself standing before the palace. A pair of guards leaned against the gate, halberds propped against the wall. The stonework looked none to new and the ancient limewash was flaking away giving the place a pocked unhealthy look. The guards themselves were not impressive specimens of the breed, leaning listlessly as they swatted at flies that buzzed around their sweat stained uninforms in a monument to optimism. 

"Peace be upon you," Kashvi called pleasantly, holding out her palms in the ancient benediction. Both guards straightened momentarily before slumping back into bored inattention. 

"Here to see the Zeminda?" one of the guards called as she approached. Kashvi had no idea what they were talking about, but it was too pleasant a day to allow a thing like that to upset her.

"I suppose I must be," she smiled.