Shane listened as the caravan owner explained that Dalaran lay in an unusual region, where warm winds from the South Seas met cold winds from Alterac. It was easy to imagine how much of each year the city spent shrouded in mist and rain.
Just then, the little mare suddenly brightened and wandered to the roadside to nibble on dew-covered grass. The abundant rainfall had nourished the meadow, and the grass rose a little above her hooves. She ate happily, completely ignoring her master's commands.
"Master mage, you need someone to lead her for you." Chuckling, the caravan owner had one of his men take the little mare's reins and lead her onward.
Dalaran was not merely a nation of mages. It was also a center for trade in magical goods and a diplomatic hub. Nobles and kings from many countries liked to send their children there to study, and sometimes stayed for a while themselves. Spying, exchanging intelligence, and negotiations of every kind took place each day.
Doing his homework thoroughly brought plenty of benefits, naturally, and spared him a great deal of unnecessary trouble.
Dalaran's exact location was completely different from what Shane remembered. After passing through Chillwind Pass and heading west, he reached sight of Dalaran two days later. From afar, mysterious, elegant white towers rose throughout the city, proclaiming the mages' wisdom, ambition, status, and power.
The problem, however, was that Dalaran had been built on an island, rather than on the shore as Shane remembered.
"Impressive, isn't it, master mage?" Thinking Shane had been stunned by the sight of the city, the caravan owner smiled. "Dalaran is an ancient city, second only to Stromgarde, and the culmination of human wisdom. If you want to reach the island, just find the office on the shore that