Fustat was home to disappointment. To be sure, it was nice to get within the safety of the walls and to see homes after so long on the road, but the town was wary. Everyone eyed the band with untrusting eyes, and doors were largely shut to them. Even Eragon, in all his finery, was only able to convince the townsfolk to point him in the direction of the Sheik, not offer much help of their own.
The guards that led them past the gates of the palace acted with a quiet efficiency that Sarai had long come to associate with the desert men of the east. The palace itself was not large, lacking all the grandiosity that Munjim had held, but it was elegantly built, tiled in white and blue.