Weeks passed as the caravan moved northward, travelling through numerous small kingdoms and tribal lands. Most of the time, the caravan's passage was unimpeded. Occasionally though, it was necessary to fend off raiders, and there were inevitably a few casualties each time it happened. Still, Msaka was not usually in much danger from those attacks; his magic was enough to keep him relatively safe, and he didn't need to charge to the front lines to use his spells, which offered an additional measure of safety.

The caravan was large, and those few losses that it suffered in those attacks didn't imperil its safety. Still, they were far from being welcome, and certainly didn't do anything to improve the mood of the majority who survived. It was, however, an accepted fact of life for those who worked at this trade that some wouldn't survive the journey, so such losses didn't drag down morale for long.

The lands themselves were varied, ranging from open, wind swept plains to arid, rolling hills. The caravan always remained in the most easily traversed areas, even when doing so lengthened the distance needed to travel through a region; the additional miles to cover were easily made up for by the avoidance of difficult terrain and potential delays that it could have caused, as well as being less stressful on the people and animals.

Msaka kept to himself during the trip, avoiding the others as much as he could, speaking to them only when necessary. Not one of them had any magical skills that he could detect, and a few of them were openly bothered when he used his. His feeling of isolation grew as a result, though he consoled himself with the fact that there were supposed to be a large number of spellcasters in Shapier. If only they could arrive there sooner...

At times, he would covertly listen in on conversations, being careful to not appear that he was doing so. It helped to pass the time, at the very least, even though most of the subjects of discussion seemed irrelevant to him. On occasion, something magical would be mentioned, and he would pay as close attention as he could manage without giving his interest away.

One story surprised him. While the merchant had mentioned the attack by elementals on Shapier the previous year, and that a hero had defeated them, Msaka had not known to that point who that individual was. If the story as told by one of the guards was true, however, the elementals and the powerful sorceror who had controlled them had been defeated by the same man who had prevented the war in Tarna later that same year.

He was impressed by this. That individual had displayed no magical talent of his own during his visit to Msaka's village, even though he had carried a few magical objects with him. Yet he had not only defeated the demons in Tarna, but equally dangerous creatures in Shapier, and their summoner. The fact that someone could have done all of that without magical skills seemed almost unbelievable, but was apparently true nonetheless, as subsequent tales by other guards confirmed.

Few of the other tales truly interested him, and many he judged to be highly questionable, obviously being more boastful than truthful. Still, there was little else to do but listen.

When the caravan camped for the night, he would occasionally slip away to work some magic in private. Usually it was to communicate with the shaman and keep him informed as to his progress. The shaman, for his part, understood that getting to Shapier was going to take a long time, and that it couldn't really be hurried. Thus, he refrained from showing much impatience with the length of Msaka's journey, despite wanting the elemental as quickly as possible.

Occasionally, the merchant would talk to him during the evenings, not for any great length of time, but it gave Msaka the opportunity to learn a few things about Shapier, its history, people, and customs. He was disgruntled to learn that magic was frowned on in the public areas of the city there, though at least it was not forbidden within private areas. That made it slightly less intolerable in Msaka's opinion, but he knew that it was unlikely he would be able to do anything to change it.

The caravan made good progress overall, and according to what the others said as time passed, it would soon enter the Shapierian desert. That would probably be the hardest part of the trip, but Msaka didn't expect it would prove too difficult to manage. After all, he reasoned, he was used to high heat and humidity; dry heat, even with the sun bearing down on him, couldn't be that much worse.