Chapter 34

The next day is more to Gryppen's liking, in that case.

It's a bit harder than expected: not many caravans are allowed past Sommayid, and Gryppen and Morgan aren't the only two trying to sign on to those that are. Treasure-hunters and curiosity seekers of all stripes are eager to see the fabled golden domes of Shariz, walk on streets cobbled in red pearls, and find exotic trinkets and wares to take home and sell for exhorbitant prices.

They finally find a shipment of dwarven metal goods heading to the interior. Some secrets have to be revealed in hushed conversations to get them aboard; Morgan's tale of how she came by her arm isn't unknown to the dwarves, and they're willing to help someone who once helped their kin. Gryppen is just too darn useful to leave behind, once it's pointed out that his illusions could foil even the best thieves. If they were to (treacherously, of course) somehow to make it past the dwarven guards (a slim chance, you understand), they'd only steal what appeared to be dwarf-crafted hammers or axes.

The trip is longer than one might expect. The caravan stops for several days in each city between Sommayid and Shariz. The dwarves insisted on direct trade since they were unwilling to lose any profits to middlemen. Since the quality of their wares was unsurpassed, the Ehosians allowed it. So they were making the most of the trip, vending blades and locks and even dwarvish jewelry as they went. The thick, chunky torcs and hammered armbands were the slowest sellers; occasional Ehosians looking for an exotic, barbaric look picked a few up. One collector actually bought an assortment of beard ornaments - beads, pins, and combs - from one of the guards, right from out of his beard!

The red sandstone of Sommayid quickly gives way to white stuccoed buildings in the other cities. The caravan passes neat, two-storied affairs on its way to and from the gates to the markets. The Ehosians, a people of olive skin and dark hair, wander the streets in the mornings and evenings, dressed in everything from rags to bright silks. During the noon hours, businesses and markets close and people retreat to shady homes for rest. Exactly at noon, as well as at dawn and sunset, the bells of the mosques call the people to prayer. No matter the city's wealth, it's business, or its population, every one has these bells and these prayers. Even the dwarves stop to pray, although their murmurings in their native tongue would lead one to believe it's not to Eho that they're praying.

There are a few golden domes, but so far, no streets are cobbled in pearls.

Both Morgan and Gryppen pick up a handful of useful Ehosian expressions over the week or two it takes to get to Shariz. Indeed, most Ehosians were more comfortable dealing with the apparent humans (even if they were Northern) than the dwarves. The canny dwarves quickly insisted that the pair assist with sales, even offering them a small commission to do so. (Dwarves are a fair, if greedy, people).

The caravan finally reaches Shariz, where the dwarves intend to sell the bulk of their wares. They set up shop, apparently unaware that Morgan and Gryppen intend to pursue other business here.

"I wonder," Morgan muses, "if we could convince them to let us carry some items to the Patriarch's palace, rather than make his purchasing agents come here." Potentates in each of the other cities had sent men to buy the rare dwarven steel for them. "Give proper honor to his position and all. They might pay more. And we'd get a look at the place."

Gryppen smiled slightly, eyes twinkling. "If the purpose of travelling to this Patriarch's castle is simply to see a wondrous sight, or to otherwise improve our position in the direction of completing your quest, then by all means. However," he added, "if there was another reason to go there not presently found among the information you have graciously given me already, I might ask what it is. Forgive me, Lady," he chuckled, "but you haven't struck me as the type who takes great enjoyment in genuflecting to national leaders."

Morgan chuckles in response. "Nope, you hit it on the head. Just casing the place. I don't know how much we'll get to see that will be useful, but seeing something is better than seeing nothing. I'll ask the head dwarf to set it up; he's the one in contact with the couriers. In the meantime, want to see if we can get some time off from sales duty? We are, after all, in the secret heart of the Pearl Kingdom. It would be a shame not to see some of the fabled sights of the city."

"Seeing the sights is a wonderful idea," Gryppen said back to Morgan. "It's the high point of travelling. Still, the dwarves seem to like you a little better than I, despite their disappointment at you not possessing a beard. Perhaps you should ask them. I'll pack up."

Morgan indeed secures some time off, and convinces the dwarves to let them carry the metal goods to the palace in a day or so. Arrangements must still be made.

The "father-daughter" pair spends the day touring Shariz. They attract many odd looks as foreigners, and are stopped and hassled by at least one guard, but the day passes by pleasantly overall. Morgan makes a few purchases in the baazar, even.

It is evening, and the two are marvelling at the gilded and silvered towers of the mosque and palace in the moonlight, when Morgan turns her head suddenly. She wrinkles her brow, then calls out, just loudly enough to be heard across the quiet and empty square, "Wombat!"

Turning to Gryppen, she explains, "I just cuaght sight of a Jade man over there, with two other figures. Might be the friends Kvelti said to keep a lookout for; if it is, he ought to recognize the word 'wombat.'"

Gryppen nods seriously to his companion, motioning for her to lead on, and adjusting his weapon. "What is a 'Jade Man'?", he asks her quietly, as they move closer.

"From the Jade Empire," Morgan whispers back. "They eat a lot of this grain called rice, make paladins look relaxed and casual, and can't speak a straight sentence without turning it into a riddle."

The old elf nodded and thought about this -- perhaps he was like the people of Sumer-Tso, who worked their water-fields for their abundant grains.

"Lead on," he said, following her.