“They call it the sunburnt country,” Jason said. “It’s very big, and the central region is very dry. Most of the population lives on the coast.”

“This place is the same,” Rufus said. “The western region here, which runs along the coast, is a place of contradictions. Most of it is lifeless desert; great dunes that seem to go on forever. But right in the middle is a vast river delta, where dead sand gives way to fertile soil. The delta is full of life and heavily populated. The city of Greenstone is on the coast, at the midpoint of the delta.”

“You seem to know this place pretty well,” Jason said, “given that you’re not actually from here.”

“Rufus likes to over-prepare,” Gary said. “He was studying everything about this place for weeks before we left.”

“Better too much preparation than not enough,” Rufus said.

As they followed the rough trade road, they eventually spotted some green in the distance.

“We’re getting close to the river,” Farrah said.

The green grew wider in their vision until it covered the horizon. As they moved closer to it, the hard, red earth underfoot gave way to softer, brown dirt. The sporadic, yellow wasteland grass became thicker, even showing hints of green. The packed earth of the road became too soft for the heavy wagons that used it and had been paved over with rough desert brick. The grass became denser until it carpeted each side of the road, with a haze hanging over it that bore the promise of water.

“There’s magic in that haze,” Farrah said. “It comes from the river, bringing the water magic that makes all this growth possible in the desert.”

Dirt gave way to rich, dark soil. The road took them between orchards burgeoning with brightly coloured fruit and fields of tall crops. The haze thickened to a cool mist in defiance of the burning sun, moisture like sparkling diamonds in the air. Drifting through the fruit-laden trees, the mist created an ethereal fairy playground, a hidden Shangri-La within the unforgiving desert.

“Welcome to Verdant Fields,” Rufus said. “The name really says it all. The farms here and on the other side of the river feed every town and village in the central region.”

They started passing pickers in the trees and farmhands in the fields, shielded from the sun by the ubiquitous mist. Much of the heat still got through, but without the parching dryness that made the desert air so unforgiving.

Jason and the others followed the road through the rich farmlands before they finally approached a wide river. There was a town covering the near-side bank, shrouded in fog rolling of the water. The town bustled as they made their way down wide streets built expressly for the passage of wagons.

“There’s always work for anyone who wants it in a town like this,” Gary said.