INHERITANCE: Memorandum Of Scales

TO THE VARDEN

They reached the edge of the desert. Murtagh watched as one of Orrin's men let the last of their birds free from the cage, a letter tied to its leg. Ahead of them the sand lessened, and on the horizon Murtagh saw a faint green curling above trademark sands.

"This way." Neybark said as he and the rest of the Dwarves shuffled through the sand on their camels. Murtagh followed, Nasuada beside him and Nasuadon watching the rear with a portion of the men Orrin had sent with them.

It was morning, and the air was deceptively cool: Murtagh had learned that here, the sun grows strength quickly, and what seemed fair could turn into a blazing inferno in not even a half of an hour's time.

"We are moving away from the mainland." Nasuada stated. Neybark answered her without turning his head.

"Yes. We did not travel here by land the entire way. We will take a ship." Neybark informed.

"Why did you not tell us this from the start?" Murtagh questioned.

"Because I was told not to." The Dwarf answered, and that was the end of their conversation.

They passed dying desert dunes, the piles of sand gradually growing smaller and smaller as Murtagh noticed more animal and plant life. Soon, he saw entire desert gardens: patches of cacti and small groves of thorny bushes that were non-existent in the deep Surdan desert.

It was then Murtagh saw the numerous trade caravans.
Some of the caravans eyed them warily, their guards presenting weapons. Others greeted them kindly, and some even stopped to barter. One caravan leader spoke to Neybark, and at the cost of a little of their supplies, the Dwarf returned with carts of sweet smelling fruits, still cold and fresh inside stone iceboxes that retarded heat and kept the contents cool.

He passed them out to their party, and even Murtagh smiled as the cooling juices of the strange-colored fruit swam down into his stomach.

They continued for  like this for days.

The going was not badly, as the way was easy and the landscape slowly evolved. Every morning Murtagh saw new, small towns in the distance.

Today they passed by a large herd of desert-goats going along as far as the eye could see. They seemed to continue on forever, bleating dumbly and oblivious to Murtagh's intrusion.

Finally, four men came riding out to them, spears raised. Neybark quickly explained their destination, and at the cost of some of their fruit, they were allowed passage. Behind them, the herd faded into the horizon. Ahead, more strange sights. They came across armed men standing on high ground, made of rock or even artificial watchtowers.

"What are they doing?" Nasuada had asked, alarmed.

"Watching. There are various large settlements ahead, and as long as we pose no threat, they will leave us be. Believe it or not, this is a very lucrative trade highway."

Murtagh could see it easily enough. Traders moved past them in droves, their horses and donkeys and camels sniffing and nickering at them as they rode past.

The merchants here were noticeably less wary than their deep-desert counterparts, and most of them displayed their wares freely without obstruction.

Murtagh saw carts of jewels, cages filled with exotic birds and pens that contained lizards as large as dogs that licked at the air with forked tongues. People where caged as well- from dark-skinned red haired beyonders to fair-haired and blue eyed mainlanders.

"Slavery?" Nasuadon smirked, having come up from the rear.

"I had thought that it was outlawed. At least in Alagaesia."