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[Steelspider]

Under the blazing golden sun of Sha’nar stretches a vast red sea of sand.

 

[Genly]

The caravan is long, and the camels are becoming refractory, their last drink two weeks before. In the center of the procession, on the tallest animal sits Princess Ab`ala, staring at the back of the camel in front of her, her wedding finery covered in a fine red dust. She is wondering how many more days the soldiers will keep her hands tied.

 

[Saigonnus]

Being bound so makes things more difficult, most especially when nature calls; which happens all too frequently from the undulating sway of these infernal creatures. Horses, she understands, and even likes, but these foul-tempered beasts aren't fit to make glue by her estimation. Not for the first time, she wonders how anyone could use them, but the Dy'ahl people do.

She follows the line of camels, listening to the chatter of the various Dy'ahl; deliberately keeping her face flat, insipid, as they have implied her to be numerous times in her hearing. As part of her education her beloved father made sure she could speak Dy'ahli; though she doubts any of these miscreants even realize that fact. In the past fifteen days, she has heard things that would cause most people; especially women to run away screaming, but the caravaneers have spoken plainly of making cheese from camel milk, and discussed their favorite blend of spices for what she thinks are sausages made from camel meat. Just the thought of eating one of these smelly beasts turns her stomach.