The_Complete_Chronicles_of_Narnia_(volumes_1-7,_in_order_of_publication)

they all slunk into the city without being stopped. Shasta cried only a very little; he was
used to hard knocks.
Inside the gates Tashbaan did not at first seem so splendid as it had looked from a
distance. The first street was narrow and there were hardly any windows in the walls on
each side. It was much more crowded than Shasta had expected: crowded partly by the
peasants (on their way to market) who had come in with them, but also with watersellers,
sweetmeat sellers, porters, soldiers, beggars, ragged children, hens, stray dogs, and barefooted
slaves. What you would chiefly have noticed if you had been there was the smells,
which came from unwashed people, unwashed dogs, scent, garlic, onions, and the piles of
refuse which lay everywhere.
Shasta was pretending to lead but it was really Bree, who knew the way and kept guiding
him by little nudges with his nose. They soon turned to the left and began going up a
steep hill. It was much fresher and pleasanter, for the road was bordered by trees and
there were houses only on the right side; on the other they looked out over the roofs of
houses in the lower town and could see some way up the river. Then they went round a
hairpin bend to their right and continued rising. They were zigzagging up to the centre of
Tashbaan. Soon they came to finer streets. Great statues of the gods and heroes of
Calormen - who are mostly impressive rather than agreeable to look at- rose on shining
pedestals. Palm trees and pillared arcades cast shadows over the burning pavements. And
through the arched gateways of many a palace Shasta caught sight of green branches,
cool fountains, and smooth lawns. It must be nice inside, he thought.
At every turn Shasta hoped they were getting out of the crowd, but they never did. This
made their progress very slow, and every now and then they had to stop altogether. This
usually happened because a loud voice shouted out "Way, way, way, for the Tarkaan", or
"for the Tarkheena", or "for the fifteenth Vizier", "or for the Ambassador", and everyone
in the crowd would crush back against the walls; and above their heads Shasta would
sometimes see the great lord or lady for whom all the fuss was being made, lolling upon a
litter which four or even six gigantic slaves carried on their bare shoulders. For in
Tashbaan there is only one traffic regulation, which is that everyone who is less
important has to get out of the way for everyone who is more important; unless you want
a cut from a whip or punch from the butt end of a spear.
It was in a splendid street very near the top of the city (the Tisroc's palace was the only
thing above it) that the most disastrous of these stoppages occurred.
"Way! Way! Way!" came the voice. "Way for the White Barbarian King, the guest of the
Tisroc (may he live for ever)! Way for the Narnian lords."
Shasta tried to get out of the way and to make Bree go back. But no horse, not even a
Talking Horse from Narnia, backs easily. And a woman with a very edgy basket in her
hands, who was just behind Shasta, pushed the basket hard against his shoulders, and
said, "Now then! Who are you shoving!" And then someone else jostled him from the
side and in the confusion of the moment he lost hold of Bree. And then the whole crowd