Rickety wooden houses clung to the river bank. The water lapped against their basements. Grass and red poppies grew out of their mouldy earth-covered roofs. Narrow little streets found their crooked way between the houses, down to the river's edge. Here they ended in crumbling wide stone steps.
Many of the streets in this old city were waterways, but the big river was the main street. Funny little shops faced the water front. Some of them had balconies where the merchants hung out their wares. Long strips of brightly dyed woolen cloth fluttered in the breeze. Silken carpets hung over the railings and glistened in the sunlight.
Here and there a temple or a royal palace rose above the tiny shops and dingy houses. Just beyond the third bridge and almost tumbling into the water stood an old wood-carving factory. Here Rhamon came the next morning with his father, who was to buy goods for the American Sahib.
