Shyama steps in, looking with interest at all the diferent kinds of people gathered in the Khantina, some in animated discussion, others tranquil and alone, some with steaming plates before them, and some with drink.

Maybe I will have some tea, and some of those yummy looking dumplings. Shyama sits down at a table by the window, throws aside the gauzy veil from her head, and glances over the menu.

The order is duly placed, and arrives in minutes. That looks delicous.