The walls of Copher rose like a mirage across the distant sands. Night had fallen but hundreds of torches lined the white washed battlements, casting a flickering illumination on the limestone. The tang of salt was on the air and the call of gulls testified to the presence the ocean, though steep cliffs screen any view of the sea.

Emmaline rubbed her sleep deprived eyes. The two humans had been sleeping in shifts, justly concerned that if they both dozed off, Trogg might decide on a snack. He had bought the two remaining corpses, tied over the back of a camel, but both of those and the camel that had been carrying them were by now being digested in the ogre's enormous gut.

Dietary peculiarities aside, Trogg was a surprisingly good conversationalist. He regaled them non-stop with tales of various adventures and campaigns he had been apart of. To hear Trogg tell it, he had been involved in battles stretching from the steppes of Kislev to the coast of Ind. It seemed to Emmaline that he was peculiarly focused on losing battles, dwelling fulsomely on depressing retreats, sudden routs and the general misery of a mercenary life. Emmaline was particularly interested to hear about his time in the Empire, she was not particularly patriotic, but it was still welcome to hear stories of her native forests rather than this sun blasted wasteland.

"Will they close the gates at night?" Emmaline asked Amal. The thief wrenched on the reigns of his tired camel, hauling the obstreperous beast back towards his desired course.

"No one is foolish enough to attack a City of Wizards," he told her.

"My kind of place," Emmaline said with a tired smile.