Callidora made her way up into the Ghani district of Cairo, marveling in spite of herself at the opulence that surrounded her. Each home she passed was practically a mansion, the ornate structures lining the cleanly-swept streets a far cry from the dockside taverns she was forced to frequent. She hadn’t had much cause to travel into the city’s richer districts since her arrival; after all, she couldn’t afford anything in this area, and she was hardly likely to be welcomed here by any of the ones who resided in these fancy buildings. The only reason she was even here today was to make a delivery on behalf of a certain Na’meeah H’Haikaddad, who’d requested an import of a number of fabrics a couple weeks before.



The noisy cart she towed behind her was heaped with linens and wools of various shades, a couple bolts of silk topping off the order and bringing it up to a sum that would see Dora fed for at least the next two weeks or so. She’d thanked the gods for the magnitude of this woman’s order, though she had insisted on accepting only half the payment up front, should tensions between the kingdoms cause the import itself to go awry. Luckily, it had not, and already she was looking forward to the moment she felt the weighted bag of gold in her hand.



Dora thought back on the woman’s kindness as they made the transaction, the amount of trust she placed in the Grecian merchant. For all she knew, Callidora could have taken her money and ran, but she hadn’t—instead promising to make good on their deal. When the fabrics all arrived intact and unblemished, she thanked the gods again that nothing had gone wrong in such a large dealing.



Had gone wrong yet, anyway.



Emerald eyes searched the neighborhood until she came to what she thought was the right house, pulling the cart up to the door and stopping to knock. The Lady Haikaddad had sent directions in her correspondence a few days before, but having never traversed this part of Cairo before, she wasn’t entirely sure she had followed them correctly. What if she brought all this to the wrong house and ended up accidentally betraying the trust the woman placed in her? Well, if the recipient still paid, she guessed it didn’t matter but so much if it was the wrong place. But she preferred to keep a better reputation than that.



Pulling strawberry blonde hair from her face and smoothing the fabric of her white kalasiris, her gaze narrowed against the blazing afternoon sun as she knocked again. Truly, the Egyptian sun was unforgiving, hot and unbearable even this late in the year. Though most of Greece tended to stay warm and balmy throughout much of the seasons, it was still nothing compared to this, sweat gathering in the small of her back and pasting the fabric against her skin.



Shifting a little uncomfortably in the heat, she perked up a bit when she finally heard footsteps coming toward the door, straightening and bringing a cheerful smile to her face. When a man opened it, she gave a respectful nod and greeted him in accented Coptic, “Good afternoon, sir. Is the Lady Na’meeah home? I’ve brought a delivery for her.” She nodded to the cart behind her before turning back to face him. “She asked that I bring it by this afternoon.”