Shasta retending to lead but it was really Bree, who khe way a guiding him by little nudges with his no. They soon turo 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 hous only on the right side; oher they looked out over the roofs of hous in the lower town and could e some the river. Then they went round a hairpio their right and tinued rising. They were zigzagging up to the tre of Tashbaan. Soon they came to fireets. Great statues of the gods and heroes of en — who are mostly impressive rather than agreeable to look at — ro on shinials. 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 niside, 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 becau 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 e 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 oraffic 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 he top of the city （the Tisroc’s palace was the only thing above it） that the most disastrous of the stoppages occurred.