Between those two deities, though, was the great altar of Savankala, overhung with its massive golden sunburst and ringed with burnished oil pots, whose flames sputtered and danced. There was no statue, no image of Savankala, save the symbolic sunburst. Who, after all, could look on the face of the sun?
Chenaya knelt wearily before the sun-god's altar, made proper obeisance, and fished out from inside her garments a heavy leather purse that hung on a thong around her neck. Loosening its strings, she poured into her hand an egg-sized diamond. It was warm with the heat of her body, and as she opened her fingers wider, its perfect facets caught the firelight from the oil pots. A rainbow of rays shot about the temple.
The stone tiles of the floor vibrated suddenly, and the very air grew taut with an unutterable tension. Above the altar, Savankala's sunburst began to burn with a potent white light, until all darkness fled His temple, and the shadows shriveled into nothingness-
Chenaya curled into a ball around the diamond, and trembled. The light stabbed her eyes, though she flung up her hood to hide her face and squeezed her eyes shut with all her strength until they leaked thick tears. She did not cry out, though, or call her god's name.
Slowly, the light subsided. Chenaya put the jewel back into the purse and hid it in her clothing again. She rose, then, to stare at the sunburst. It no longer burned with the Bright Father's essence, nor did the temple stones. Yet, in her soul she felt Him near.
She lifted one of the many oil pots, taking care not to drown the wick, and set it in the middle of the altar. Next, she drew a small dagger from her boot. The silver blade shimmered. She raised it quickly and cut a long blond lock from her hair and held it in the wick's flame. It went up in a flash. The singe-smell and the smoke curled upward as Chenaya left the dagger as a further offering on the altar next to the pot. A moment later, she turned away and left the temple.
Her horse snorted when he saw her coming. She gathered the reins and mounted, ready to go home to Land's End. Before she got far, though, something caught her eye, a gleam of metal lying on the ground by the outside corner of the temple. She cast a glance over her shoulder. No moon in the sky, no stars, nothing to cause such a glitter. Cautiously, she dismounted again.
It was her dagger, point down, stuck in the earth. Her jaw gaped as she bent closer. No mistake, it was hers. She rose again, and peered suspiciously up and down the street. No one, not even the best thief in Sanctuary, could have got into the temple, snatched the dagger from the altar, and gotten out again without her notice. Even if such a thief lived, he wouldn't have been so clumsy as to drop it making his getaway.
She frowned and thought about the gleam that had caught her eye. There was no such gleam now from any angle as she moved around it. The damn thing was barely visible in the temple's shadow.
She was too tired for such puzzles. The hour was late, and home was near. If Savankala didn't want her offering, she wasn't going to just leave it in the dirt. It was a good blade. She bent down and grabbed the hilt.
Her senses reeled suddenly, and the earth seemed to yawn as she fell crazily into a great black hole. A scream formed, burbling in her throat. She bit her lip, though, and clenched her jaws tight, refusing to give it voice. Down she tumbled into the strange darkness, deeper and deeper, until somewhere far below, or far ahead-she could no longer tell direction-she saw a greenish glow and a form like a body in its shroud cloth. It, too, was falling, falling toward her at fantastic speed, coming closer. Now the shroud slipped away from its head, and she saw a pallid, horrible face with no eyes rushing at her.
Chenaya threw up her arms, on the verge of releasing the pent-up scream. She mustn't, she knew. But she couldn't help herself!
Then, as she opened her mouth, she found herself outside the temple again, and the world was the world she knew. She collapsed back against the temple wall, gasped for breath, and slowly fought down the panic that had filled her. There was no hole, no corpse, no greenish glow. Just the dagger at her feet.
She stared at the blade. Whatever had just happened, the dagger had been the trigger. Her fingertips had only brushed the hilt, and the world had lurched.
Of a sudden, she kicked the dagger, sending it flying end over end into the middle of the street. Nothing happened. She folded her hands over her mouth and trembled. Maybe it had been an illusion, a standing dream. No, make that nightmare. She was so tired, but she had to master herself, had to keep a tighter control.
She picked up the dagger and thrust it into its sheath in her boot and mounted her horse. It was just a short ride now to Land's End. She would be there soon, and she could rest, though not sleep. That would come later. At least, though, she'd be home. It would be good to see her father and Dayrne.
But when she made the turn onto the short road from the Avenue of Temples that should have taken her to her father's estate, she found herself at a dead end, staring at the cold stone of the city wall. Damn it! The wall's course had effectively cut off Land's End, and all the other estates, from the rest of the city. No doubt, Uncle Molin had chuckled about that. Hell, he'd probably planned it.
Frowning, she turned her horse around, rode back down the Avenue of Temples to the street called Safe Haven, and from there, to the Wideway, which ran along the wharves. There, the rush of the breakers, the humming of ships' guy wires, and the creaking of old timbers made a magical music, and the smell of the salt sea blew inland, overpowering. Unfortunately, so was the smell of fish. She turned her gaze away from the beautiful sea and concentrated on the road, setting her mount to a gallop until she came to the Gate of Gold, so named because in former times, when the caravan trade came this far south, it marked the way to the lucrative trade in Ilsig.
Two more guards stood at the Gate of Gold's duty post. They moved into the middle of the road, blocking the way, when they heard a rider coming. Chenaya slowed to a walk, then stopped. One of the men recognized her at once. "Lady!" he said with genuine politeness, inclining his head, then coming to attention. "Glad we are to see you back, though it could be under more pleasant circumstances."
The other soldier also inclined his head. "Many of us respected your father," he added gently. "And his accomplishment at this year's Festival of Man .- ."
Chenaya's eyes widened at mention of her father. Respected? Past tense? Forgetting the guards, she spurred her horse suddenly, filled with a dreadful apprehension, and left the gate swiftly behind- There was no road north outside the wall. She rode overland at breakneck speed, pushing her mount, heedless of the dangers-the unexpected trench, the patch of slick grass. She bent low over the horse's neck. Its mane lashed her face as she sought to outrace the fear the guard's casual words had put into her.
She passed Sanctuary's southernmost estate. It was supposed to be abandoned, but above its private walls, lamps burning in some of its upper windows said differently. She had no time to worry over that, though. She used the reins to whip her horse, driving it faster as the ground rolled up and down.
At the main gate of Land's End, she jumped to the ground, ran, and seized the gigantic iron knocker. Thrice, she slammed it against the metal plate, and thrice more, before a small square portal of wood in the gate's door slid back and an unfamiliar face peered out at her.
"What do you want?" the face snapped. Dark eyes stared warily at her. "It's late."