"My apologies, Master Yazid," panted Amit, while struggling to lead their camels up the great muddy path alongside the river.

"Useless, I tell you. You are lucky I owed that debt to your father, or I would have left you back in the village," sighed Yazid, turning his attention to the path in front of them. The normally dirt road path they followed had been washed out by recent flooding, leading to the sloppy quagmire in front of them. Yazid supposed it had a lot to do with the time of year, having traveled this northerly route before, but for someone like Amit, it would be their first time seeing the land of waters.

Amit finally caught up, leading his camel to a halt besides Yazid. His eyes gazed out towards the scene in front of them, a flat, fertile plain crisscrossed by man-made ca.n.a.ls and supplied by the fresh produce of the nearby river. It was a big difference from their homeland, nearly three weeks hard journey south into the great Arabian desert. Yazid's tribe, a large band of a several hundred hardy families, etched out a basic living near the closest oasis they could find in the great sand empire that men called Arabia.

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Yazid was used to traveling into the land of waters, what men used to call Babylonia, but in these days was just another province of the Persian Empire. For merchants like Yazid, the riches of Persia possessed great opportunity to better one's station. Yazid had been making these treks northward for the better part of thirty years, selling his wares from his tribe, and using the proceeds to buy Persian goods to bring back to his homeland. It was tough living, but enabled him to earn decent profits and stay afloat. At least enough to satisfy his wife, Lat.

"When you get to Persia, please try and pick up more linens. Most of our clothing is rather tattered, and long overdue for replacements," chirped Lat, reminding her husband as he loaded his camel to begin his journey. "And remember to take young Amit with you! His father would be most displeased if he was forgotten behind."