The clay with which it was built was said to have been kneaded not with water but with the precious essential oils of flowers. His guides, sniffing the air, led him from one crumbling room to the next, saying, ‘This is jessamine, this is violet, this is rose.’ But at last an Arab said, ‘Come and smell the sweetest scent of all,’ and they went to the main hall, where they drank in the calm, empty, eddyless desert wind. ‘This,’ said the Arab, ‘is the best, it has no taste.’