The place was ribbed in Opalstone. It was made in spotless ivory, polished in the tusks of mighty Numidian elephants that roamed the savanna. It was splendorous milk upon the stretch of dunes and cliffs and sand that went beyond it. And on a vast reef of brown it perched majestically.
Everything about the Seat of Sétland was white, the cavernous halls and trilithic steeples.
"Wow! Now that's a Temple." Ravenna guffawed; it was more ecstatic awe. The rest in the group were struck speechless, and the caravan had stopped moving, at a small hill in the wilderness. From it Rafel and the others glared into the scarlet sunset at the great Keep of white. The Guide accosting them pulled off his wide sunhat.
