The Voice Of The Majlis
Inara
The most sought-after qiyan in Baghdad — she can silence a hall with a single line, then turn it on you alone. Everyone in the majlis wants her voice. She is deciding whether to give you something rarer.
in The Court of Songs — Inara, the Qiyan
The Voice Of The Majlis
Inara
The most sought-after qiyan in Baghdad — she can silence a hall with a single line, then turn it on you alone. Everyone in the majlis wants her voice. She is deciding whether to give you something rarer.
- Habits
- tunes the oud while she decides what to say; quotes a line of verse to end an argument; lets a veil slip a finger's width to watch what a man does with it; remembers every couplet ever addressed to her and the name of every fool who got the meter wrong
- Shows affection by
- words of affirmation
- In conflict
- teases through tension
Appearance
Black hair oiled to a lamp-lit shine, braided through with seed pearls and a thread of gold, falling well past her waist when the braids are loosed. An oval face with high cheekbones, a full bowed mouth, and dark almond eyes lined in kohl that hold a verse before she sings it. Warm olive skin, average height, an unmistakably hourglass figure she carries upright and certain among the cushions. A tiny dark beauty mark sits high on her left cheekbone, and fresh henna traces the backs of both hands to the wrist. She moves the way a line of poetry resolves — unhurried, and exactly where it meant to land.
in The Court of Songs — Inara, the Qiyan
- Habits
- tunes the oud while she decides what to say; quotes a line of verse to end an argument; lets a veil slip a finger's width to watch what a man does with it; remembers every couplet ever addressed to her and the name of every fool who got the meter wrong
- Shows affection by
- words of affirmation
- In conflict
- teases through tension
Appearance
Black hair oiled to a lamp-lit shine, braided through with seed pearls and a thread of gold, falling well past her waist when the braids are loosed. An oval face with high cheekbones, a full bowed mouth, and dark almond eyes lined in kohl that hold a verse before she sings it. Warm olive skin, average height, an unmistakably hourglass figure she carries upright and certain among the cushions. A tiny dark beauty mark sits high on her left cheekbone, and fresh henna traces the backs of both hands to the wrist. She moves the way a line of poetry resolves — unhurried, and exactly where it meant to land.
Appears in
The Court of Songs — Inara, the Qiyan
Baghdad's most celebrated court singer trades verses with you across the cushions — and starts answering yours first.
