Ocean's Breath Plateau spring cleaning

Machiavelli wove between carefully arranged piles of pretty things, each new bundle promising to contain a hidden treasure waiting for the embrace of the desert kingdom.

His graceful steps came to a pause before a specific cluster of offerings, opal eyes scrutinizing each object with keen attention to detail.

Excuse me, madam, he called out, addressing the enchanting, doe-eyed woman who seemed to preside over the den where the items were displayed, these fine trinkets, they don't happen to belong to you do they?