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A terrifying windswept desert. One would never visit more than once. Silent and churning with white-hot sand, the land was an ocean of naked sunlight. The snaking train of a caravan sliced across the plain like a scar. Ragged beduins led camels laden with gold from Mali, spices from India, amd silk from the Far East. Their weather-beaten faces scarcely blinked at the surroundings. Wiry forearms and straining shoulders muscled the animals into steady obedience. Steady...like the rythme of their footsteps on the ever-changing landscape. These were the middlemen, who dared to visit the desert more than once.