Amul-Bei was rather mellow. To my right a B’doli seller, clothed in a puffy two piece outfit that contrasted brightly against the mellow sandstone Amul-Bei was constructed from, was trying to coax his burrow toward a well. There a woman, his wife I assumed since she wore the same red outfit except her face was veiled, was pouring a bucket of water out into a trough for the pack animal. To my left a family of nomads leaned against the wall, the white garbs draped over their bodies pegged them as pilgrims, and watched the B’doli-man’s struggle with mild amusement. They were thinking “we know how to handle our animals,” I’m sure of it.
I’m a pilgrim, just like them. I thought.
According to Timmothy’s Historim erz, which I re-read on the blimp ride across the Westernmost Sea, the wall where the Purile family were resting was originally constructed by the Amul’s priesthood to defend against incursions by the pagan nomads. Then in their year 311 PF, that is Post Foundation, a combination of trade ties with the Nomads and a revelation to the High Priest that the Nomads were to bring yearly sacrifices to Amul opened up the city.
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