Each key has a story. Each key unlocks a secret. They are yours, my dashi. My Zihariel. Your birthright. Your heritage. I pass them on to you as they were passed on to me, as they have been passed through the generations. Keep them safe.

Keep them close. Remember my words, dashi. As long as you have them, you are no one's slave. Survival along Therk's seedy coast is precarious. Hounds rule the streets with fear and fists. Former highwaymen now call themselves Merchants. Spices, rare since the desert swallowed the Spice Way, are forbidden to all but the wealthy and powerful.