The Nimlets dwell mostly around the shores of a large lake,
known as Ialtas Mere, in the middle of which is an island. The mere is deep,
but the surface is calm, glinting in the sunshine and moonlight. The island,
however, is the nerve-centre of the Nimlet’s labours, and although externally
it appears just as quiet as the shore, it is there that all important decisions
are made.
Into the
lake run seven streams from the hills around, but out of it flows the river Ultilla.
As it descends out of the Neveth the river deepens and leads southward towards
the desert. For while the land of the Nimlets is fertile and full of life, beyond
their borders the ground is hard and barren. The earth is cracked and dust
covers everything. Sometimes storms will raise up clouds of sand and bitter
winds will stir the stones, but it doesn’t rain. The people there cling to
fragile lives and they barely notice anyone but themselves. They have heard
only rumours of the Neveth.
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