June 22nd, 761, 5:52 PM; Day 97 of the Menetnashte Expedition
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In a strange, roundabout way, you kind of liked Sebua.
It was miserably, viciously hot during the day, and freezingly cold at night, of course. One two occasions you actually found ice in your water rations. The sun never ceased beating down, and all of you had to work to avoid becoming a heatstroke victim. The food, despite Michel's unique culinary spin, was fairly mediocre, and on no fewer than three seperate occasions large spiders or scorpions crawled into your boots.
You still liked it, however, because of what was not there. There were no demons, to begin with. Also no undead. Cavendish seemed to either be dead or at least in absentia following his tussle with Diamabel, which was a good thing. The Anubite's continued absence was more arguably beneficial, but life was less complicated when she wasn't around. And after you left Dezbar Keep, you heard nothing more about Confessors or Diamabel following you. After the God-Storm passed out of side behind you, you somewhat stopped worrying about it.
So in a way, the three weeks or so since Dezbar Keep was a time of relative peace, and of healing all the frayed nerves and various bruises and nicks and nearly-broken necks of the Keep. It might not have been paradise, (and in fact the palm-sized spider in your boot certainly made sure it wasn't), but no one was trying to kill you, which was an advantage. Of course, Michel's lizard-egg omelette after you criticized his cooking just might have counted as a murder attempt. You weren't quite sure.
Still, it was with anticipation, mingled with anxiety that you reached the first outpost of civilization in Sebua. Contrary to popular opinion, the Amber Wastes weren't wholly uninhabited. Put enough land somewhere and someone will live there. In this case, it was a little trading outpost nestled in the ruins of a former mining camp and military fort, the Kermanshah. What made the Kermanshah more interesting was its location in the side of a canyon.
"The Kermanevar is, I believe, one of the wonders of the natural world." Professor Pelletier said with a soft cough. The elder academic had mostly recovered from his near-death experience in Dezbar, though Kuzan said that the scholar's lungs and heart would never be strong. Pelletier would have that cough till he died. "It's a unique combination of an underground spring carving a thick central canyon, which later branches out into dozens, if not hundreds, of very narrow slot canyons."
"Fascinating." Samael rode by the professor, and you couldn't detect a hint of sarcasm. The Borcan had a very good poker face.
"It was discovered by a Pharazian general named Bey Feydahl Kerman, some hundred and fifty years ago." Pelletier continued with a disapproving look at Samael. It kind of reminded you of a teacher rebuking a student. "The Pharazians established a small, armed mining camp there, and stayed there for about thirty years. The mined for gold, actually. The mineral yields were never very good, and so they eventually closed down the fort after Bey Kerman's death."
"These days its a mining camp and trading post, one of a handful speckled between Phiraz and Muhar. It has a dependable oasis, so the nomads visit to trade, and travelers occasionally pass by on the way to Har'Akir. There may be anywhere from fifteen to hundred people in residence, depending on whether any of the nomad tribes are here."
"Well, we could use a bit of a rest and resupply." Samael nodded. "And a chance to find out what conditions are like further ahead."
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You reached the Kermanevar right around sunset, and it was a sight to remember. The canyon was not the largest in the world, an honor which went to the Valley of Zhakata in G'Henna, but it was certainly a small, perfect jewel.
The northern part of the canyon, where you came out, had gently sloping walls and a zig-zagging ramp meandering to the canyon floor from the top on both sides. A slow, smooth river flowed along the bottom of the valley walls, with a stone bridge crossing it. Further north, the canyon terminated in a kind of hollow around a massive oasis, the size of a small lake, out of which the river flowed. To the south, the canyon split off into a maze of ever narrower canyons.
Michel whistled appreciatively. "Ezra... that is something I'm glad to have seen. But where's the village?"
"Look down, Effendi." It was Fassahd who said this, softly, but, you thought, with just a trace of smugness.
Kermanshah was built into the wall of the canyon. Around a large ledge about two-thirds of the way down the wall, the Pharazians had built a wall, and apparently a keep building. The keep was gone, taken apart for building material, but inside the remainder of the wall some dozen-odd tents sprawled with neither rhyme nor reason, and with plenty of room for more.
"Well, let's go." Samael said, flicking his camel's reins. The beast looked at him balefully, then proceeded to head down the ramp towards the trading post.
A view of the southern end of the Kermanevar
