They all agreed, and Cari informed them that there was a palace just a short distance ahead of them along this street. The idea of spending the night inside a building instead of their tents was a great novelty, so they moved ahead to the promised palace.
There was no denying when they reached it. The street ended at a broad maidan that may once have held a beautiful garden, but was now an expanse of scraggly weeds and a few desiccated tree trunks. Only the palms and desert cottonwood still struggled for life. A dry fountain, white and cracked from long exposure to the freezing desert winters, stood in the center, a memorial to happier times. But the travelers barely looked at the maidan; what caused them to stop and gape was the spectacular building on the other side.
The palace facade
