He did not like killing people. A major reason he had been reluctant to serve the Forgotten King was that his first errand had resulted in a dozen deaths, perhaps more. However, whenever he found himself in a combat situation, his reflexes took over; he acted first and regretted it later. He was not proud of that; but recognized it as a part of his nature; all he could do was try to avoid combat situations.
Five temples remained, including the temple of Death; he would leave that for last. What were the other four? P'hul, the goddess of decay, was one. There was one that the tavern-girl had said frightened her; Agha? No, Aghad. That was it. He recalled hearing the name spoken back in Skelleth, as an oath; that sounded promising.
He considered visiting the tavern again, but decided against it; he was not hungry, nor even particularly thirsty, and could just as easily get directions on the street.
That in mind, he left the stable, nodding to the stable-boy who winked in reply, and headed for the marketplace.
As it had been the night before, it was bustling, crowded and torchlit. He strolled about a bit first, watching the reactions of the Dыsarran populace to an overman in their midst.
There were none; they accepted him as a matter of course. There must indeed be established communications between Dыsarra and a population of overmen somewhere.
Casually, he struck up a conversation with a merchant, pretending an interest in his display of stone carvings; when he learned that the carvings represented the Dыsarran gods, his feigned interest became quite genuine.
"Who is this, then?" he asked, indicating a six-inch carving of truly astonishing ugliness; it had a fanged, twisted, sneering face, with exaggerated masculine characteristics, and was done in a rough, primitive style.
"Aghad, of course"
"And this?" He indicated a skull-faced, helmeted statuette that held a miniature sword almost the length of its body.
"Bheleu, god of destruction. One of your kind, so it is said."
"What?" Garth looked more closely, and saw that the face was not a skull; the statuette had ragged, straight hair, two thumbs on either hand, and eyes rather than sockets. In short, it was a carving of an overman.
How very odd, Garth thought, that humans should worship a god in the form of an overman. After all, overmen had nothing to do with the gods, being atheists; and weren't gods supposed to have existed throughout time, while overmen had only come into being a thousand years earlier? He looked over the whole display. He recognized the slender, graceful Tema, though these little idols did not have cloaks that spread out above them; a god with two eyeless faces he readily guessed to be Andhur Regvos. There were more of those two, in various sizes and with some variation of detail, than any others; there were a dozen or so of the fanged horror depicting Aghad, and perhaps half that number of the overmanlike Bheleu. There were two other recurring forms, both female; one held dagger and whip and wore a cruel smile, while the other was robed and cowled. He took a closer look at one of these; under the cowl the artisan had carved the face of a mummy, wrinkled skin stretched over bone. It had a nose, however, so it was not intended to be an overwoman; Garth guessed it must be P'hul.
That was only six, however.
"I only see six of the gods here."
"Naturally." The merchant looked surprised. Garth realized his mistake; the seventh god was Death, arid even were there a market, it would probably not be considered safe to try representing him.
He tried to cover his foolishness. "Of course. Who is this?" He indicated the woman with whip and dagger.
"Sai."
Garth looked blank.
"The goddess of pain and suffering."
"Oh, yes." He contemplated the display again. "And each has a temple here in Dыsarra?"
"The name says as much."
"Where are the temples? I might want to visit them."
The merchant looked at him strangely. "Very few foreigners visit the temples."
"I was just curious."
"Oh. Well, the temple of Tema is back that way," he said, indicating the direction, "and most of the others are on the Street of the Temples, over that way." He pointed toward the northeastern part of the city.
"My thanks." Garth took a final look at the array of idols, then turned away, heading northeast.
The Street of the Temples was not hard to find; it was a broad, straight avenue, paved with stone and obviously intended for ceremonial processions. Most of its length was lined not with temples, but with houses and palaces; it was obviously one of the more desirable neighborhoods. There were a few shops, all closed for the night; this part of the city belonged to the day-people, not the night-worshippers.
One end of the street was the gate to a palace, the largest and most elegant Garth had yet seen; that, presumably, belonged to the city's overlord. The other end, which was much further from where he had happened onto the avenue, appeared to be nothing but the blank stone face of the volcano on whose slopes the city was built; the street was cut into the stone for a few yards, keeping it at a negotiable slope, and then abruptly stopped.
Along the considerable distance between palace and mountainside, Garth saw four temples; they were readily distinguished from the adjoining residences because each was built entirely of black stone and surmounted by a dome of some sort, while the palaces and other buildings were flat-roofed and built of various materials. The temples were arranged two to each side, spaced along the street, dividing it into five equal lengths.
Garth had arrived on the street directly across from the temple second from the overlord's palace; it made little difference to him which he visited next, so he chose the nearest and strode across the pavement.
The temple was mostly hidden by a high wall, built of the ubiquitous black stone; only the dome, a relatively modest one, could be seen. The wall had no windows, no eaves overhanging, nor any other architectural features suggesting it was part of the temple proper; Garth assumed it enclosed a yard, and that the temple lay within the yard.
The only visible entrance was a pair of gates, perhaps ten feet high and eight feet wide, made of some metal that gleamed an eerie silver in the moonlight; they were not simple flat surfaces, but shaped into ornate curves and ridges. With a start, Garth realized that the ridges formed recognizable runes, two to each gate, spelling out AGHAD.
As he approached the gates he noticed another surprising feature; the wall was built of carefully cut stones, all exactly the same size, and every stone block had carved upon it those same four runes: AGHAD. The name of the god was repeated a thousand times over on the wall of the temple.
Well, Garth thought, at least he need not wonder which temple it was. He reached out to try the gates, but before his hand touched the gleaming surface it parted and swung open before him, revealing the courtyard beyond.
He did not much care for such trickery; he looked carefully in all directions before cautiously stepping through, but could see no sign of how the gates had been opened. He tried to peer through the crack at the hinges, only to discover there was none; each valve hung from a single intricate hinge that extended for its full height.
The courtyard beyond seemed innocent enough; a broad expanse paved with loose gravel, with a fountain playing in its center. A long colonnade surrounded it on three sides; behind the far colonnade there stood the temple itself, an elegant building of black stone, with many windows and much ornamentation.
On every column, on all three sides, was a bracket holding a blazing torch, a welcome change from the darkness of the first two temples.