Immediately in front of me, glimmering in the torch flames, was a golden altar. There was no light here except a pale grey dome in the roof. The room was not large, but it was extremely high. I pushed open the doors and went in, and they swung closed behind me, silently. In the centre of the door, divided by their opening, was the Firelord’s sacred sign: the diviner’s eye. They were pure gold, beaten into beautiful designs of strange birds and beasts, wide wilderness places, and foreign cities. I bent my head low, feeling the heavy hood covering my face and my pale hair, and went straight on past, across polished firelit floors, crimson carpets, and on until I came to two doors. The temple was vast, and dim with candlelight and shadows. I gripped my knife, futile against those blades, and went in. As I drew near, the swords parted, were lifted upright. Guards stood at the end of the tunnel, barring it with swords crossed. I remembered that it was used only by the Firelord once a year. The tunnel was not long, but smelled damp, and the air was stale. Shaking with fear, I pulled the Firelord’s hood low over my face, drew the sleeves down over my hands, gripped the torch and the knife in its scabbard on my waist, and went in.
I had expected a grand entrance, but my torchlight showed a tunnel. I said a prayer, took a deep breath, and entered the temple. I hesitated a moment, swept by the wind, by fear of the dizzy height, by terror of the enormity of what I was about to do. I held my hood down low over my brand, and walked on I was close to the temple now, and could see the Firelord’s door. The wind was very strong, and whistled across my path and tore at the flames in my torch. My torchlight showed that the ridge had become narrow with near-vertical sides, in places no wider than the path itself. Above me, at the end of my road, the temple waited, silent and serene. Below, the town already showed signs of life: torches moved along the roads, and the lower door to the temple blazed suddenly with light. The way became very steep, the ridge turned suddenly to the right, and Kasimarra and the temple place were directly in front of me. I got up, took the torch, and hurried along the ascent. Then, fortified, I sang again, and watched.Īt last the skies began to lighten behind Kasimarra. But I took a mouthful or two to celebrate, remembering that this night I was seventeen. I had no intentions of staggering into the temple at dawn, or of missing the dawn altogether. I had brought a small wineskin as well, though I drank the wine sparingly. It was dried fruit from some far exotic place, some slightly mouldy hezzin meat, and some grains. After a while I opened a small parcel of food I had brought from the last cave. I waited there, singing Quelled myths when panic threatened. Knowing that he had been here, that he, too, had waited and watched, comforted me and gave me strength. I realised, with a rush of gratitude, that this was where the Firelord had waited on his long watches for the dawn.
It was a small cave, with room barely to stand, but it looked homely, and gave a good view of Kasimarra, the temple, and the eastern skies beyond. I came to a cave, and noticed the Firelord’s sign scratched above it. I noticed that in the temple summit the light had all gone out, and I realised that was where I’d light the fires to show that the Firelord had returned. I could see nothing but the steep road ahead, rugged rocks, and at times, across the misty valleys on my right, the fires of Kasimarra. The night deepened, became pitch-black, and a strong wind blew. I pulled the hood up over my own, and made sure all my hair was well concealed. If anyone was watching from a distance, they could possibly see me in the torchlight. After a while I put on the Firelord’s robe, for warmth and protection.
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