Amongst Silk and Spice Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn't have one. The followers of Buddha said that was fine. Or maybe she would go back to Europe, set up a book-binding business and just stay in one place. Constantinople, perhaps. Athens was nice, too, and the weather was pleasing.
    Somehow she didn't see anything drawing her back to England. There was nothing there for her but painful memories. Perhaps that wasn't entirely true, but the painful memories were as of yet more powerful than the others. Admittedly that could change one day, but Eloise saw no need to encourage it along.

Chapter 5:
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    Crossing the great desert, Hugo had cursed the little witch's name every step of the way. He had joined with a group of traders from Constantinople, whom he'd found in Baghdad, preparing to travel east. Finding traces of her hadn't been hard as there wasn't an abundance of English noblewomen interested in philosophy.
    At a price, the Mongol administration had given them small clay tablets that they hung around their necks, which gave them passage through the Mongol empire. The Mongols had particularly questioned his purpose there, recognizing that he was not a trader. One of the traders had to interpret for him, stating that he had to provide a message to a foreigner living either in Kashgar or further east—as he'd known in his bones that she wouldn't have stopped in Kashgar. Eloise Chanderling proved difficult at every turn and finding her in Kashgar would prove the easier of the options, hence the least likely.
    He'd been right; she'd only stopped in Kashgar for a month, and he had to continue across the god-forsaken desert, anger and resentment dogging every one of his steps.
    It was clear that Eloise headed to the center of things, which would only be Cambeluc, and once he got on the other side of the desert, that name alone would get him directions from the small and thin creatures that lived on this far end of the world. He learned to tell the Mongols from the Cathayans, initially by behavior, but subsequently by facial features.
    Cambeluc was unlike any city he had ever seen, and he'd seen more than he'd ever wanted to. Like most cities, the foreigners were relegated to a section of the city, typically outside the defensive walls, comfortably sacrificed if invasion and attack came. Cambeluc was so far into the Mongol territory, in was unlikely a foreign army would come to sack the city.
    Each custom in this city was strange, but there was also a mix of people—Latins, Saracens, Russians, and, of course, Mongols. The food was strange and eaten with small sticks, the language fast and nasal, and the currency was paper, given value it didn't deserve.
    His inability to communicate made her difficult to find, but he knew by instinct that she was here in the city. So he wandered the foreign quarters searching for her. The foreigners in the city tended to be men, so it wasn't hard to see the women. The few Saracen women were hooded and cloaked, as they did even in the most intense heat. There were also Indian women, with their bright clothes, dark skin and large, black eyes.
    Every manner of language was spoken, except French, of which he heard none, but then neither the French nor the English were great traders, so it was perhaps not surprising.
    The Cathayans seemed to treasure delicacy and their wares were intricate and fine, and Hugo felt like they would break under his fingers if he touched them, and their equally small and delicate sellers gauged him wearily, probably wondering the same thing.
    For days he wandered, eventually spotting yellow hair moving through the market. It was the thing he searched for because he knew she had such hair. Moving through the crowd, he tried to find it again, doing so eventually when he walked around a stall, seeing her inspecting porcelain glazed blue like the sky. Her delicate fingers suited the vase she held. With a smile, she put it down and moved on, and Hugo followed. She wore a bright yellow gown of the fashion Cathayan women