The lower tunnels were a bit narrower than the upper, and now and then the two were forced to leap crumbled places in the ledge. More often, they were forced to step over side passages en-tering the channel. Many of these seemed absolutely still and stagnant. Hezhi gave out a little gasp when she saw something up one of them, something large, moving beneath the surface, visible only by its ripples.
After that they saw ghosts, many of them. Most were as insubstantial as the one in her room, points in the atmosphere that caught the lamplight and twisted it up. The majority fled from their lamp, though a few more curious ones actually approached. There was one, however, that seemed quite solid. It was a man— she could tell that much—and he stayed just ahead of them, at the fringes of illumination. The dark hollows of his eyes were unreadable, but Hezhi still had the impression of intense concentration, as if the ghost were studying them in some way.
"If we meet a real ghost down here," Tsem muttered, "like the one in the Hall of Moments…" He did not finish.
"I have part of a broom," Hezhi whispered.
"What?" Tsem turned to face her, his eyes wide, shocked.
"I took part of an old broom from one of the shrines," she explained.
"You stole from the priesthood?"
"Well," she considered, "I don't know that stealing is the right word."
"I don't believe this." Tsem sighed. "My days are certainly numbered."
"Hush, Tsem. Besides, I did a bit of research on ghosts. Monsters like the one in the Hall of Moments are rare and usually asleep. Hopefully we won't wake any."
"Hopefully." Tsem snorted.
Whatever strange, dead thoughts their onlooker might entertain, he continued to back away from them, made no move to attack.
Not much farther along, the passage suddenly widened, and they found themselves crossing a room. The channel cut on through, and they could easily see, across the room, that the tunnel continued on. Above them the roof rose perhaps a span more than the roof of the sewer, and it was vaulted. In the dirty stone they could see numerous cracks, and a dense mass of gnarled and groping tendrils punched through the fractures.
"Roots," Hezhi remarked. "We must be beneath one of the gardens."
"What is this? This looks like some of the buried rooms we used to explore under the old palace."
"It's the same architecture," she replied.
"I thought the buried city—First Dynasty—was still below us."
"This is an upper story," she answered smugly. She indicated a stairway in the corner of the room, leading down. "That's how we'll get down to the buried palace."
"Right here?"
"No, this isn't the right place. At least, I don't think it is." She took out her map and unfurled it in the lamplight.
"No," she said. "I've been counting side passages. We have to cross six more."
"Did you count the one that was filled in?" Tsem asked.
"Yes." Hezhi nodded.
They went on, counting six more tributary ducts. Their companion remained with them, gazing hollowly from the shadows.
"The next room, then," she whispered. Her skin was beginning to tingle with a strange sort of exhilarating fear. A few more paces, and they passed into another upper-story room.
She located the stairway easily enough, splashing across the water standing on the floor.
"This is it," she breathed.
"I will go first here," Tsem stated. It was not a question.
"Good enough, Tsem," she agreed.
The stair was slick, with a fine coating of mud, but unlike the rooms under the abandoned wing, it was clear of substantial debris. Water stood in the room, as well, but they discovered it to be only a few feet deep—to Tsem's knees and Hezhi's waist.
Even Tsem recognized the place, despite the outdated architecture.
"This is a shrine," he muttered, taking in the thin, decorative columns, the inoperative fountain choked with stagnant water, the faded glyphs on the walls.
"Yes," she confirmed. "A First-Dynasty shrine. You see? That is the royal seal of the Chakunge."
"The seal is much larger here. I've never seen it so prominent in the shrines above."
"Back then the Chakunge was the First Priest, as well," Hezhi explained.
"I thought he still was."
She shook her head. "Only symbolically. In the First Dynasty, there was no Priestfather. Everything flowed from the Chakunge. After the war of priests, the priesthood and the emperor became divided."
"I've never heard of any 'war of priests,'" Tsem said.
"No. It isn't much talked about," she told him.
"So now where to? I don't see any exits."
Indeed, the exits from the room had been walled up, precisely similar to many of the chambers they had encountered a few years before.
"Oh," Hezhi said. "This won't get us where we are going. I needed to see this shrine to mark my place and to learn a bit more."
"About what?"
"I think the glyphs in here may tell me some things I need to know."
"Ah."
"Here, let me have the lantern." She took the light source over near the sacred pool and began studying the glyphs there.
"Tsem," she said after a moment, "go count the number of treads in the stairway for me."
"What? Why, Princess?"
"It's important."
Tsem sighed and began sloshing toward the stair. Hezhi took her opportunity, knowing she had to hurry before Tsem caught on. The lip of the sacred well was above the waterline; she set the lantern down on that and scrambled onto it herself. From there she was able to reach the narrow duct that once fed the pool. Heart pounding, she grasped the slippery lip of the tube and began pulling herself up. Her arms seemed absurdly weak—she had only managed to get her elbows inside the duct before Tsem cried out behind her.
"Princess!" he yelped, and she heard a great splashing as he slogged across the room toward her. She wriggled desperately, abdominal muscles clenched, heaving herself into the tube. Everything in it was slimy, offering no purchase. In one frantic heave she got inside up to her belly, braced her arms, and wriggled farther in. Strong fingers clutched at her foot. She kicked wildly, worming away from Tsem's grip and farther into the dark shaft.
"Princess," Tsem repeated, the sound of his voice muffled by her body. The tube was narrow enough that she could not quite get to her knees, and so she effectively blocked it.
"I'm sorry, Tsem," she called back, hoping he could hear. Her voice rang weirdly, right in her ears but also humming down the endless duct. "I'm sorry, but you can't fit in here, and it's the only way. I knew you wouldn't let me go alone."
"Nonsense," she heard him say. "But come back out here for the light."
In response, she drew out the tiny oil lamp she had concealed in her bag. Calmly she checked the wick to make certain it was still soaked with oil. Resting on her elbows, she also drew out a small packet of four matches, sealed in waxed paper. She struck one match against another and lit the lamp.
"You knew about this," Tsem howled, stamping about in the water. "You planned it."
"I had to, Tsem," she called back.
"Princess, please," Tsem begged.
"Wait for me, Tsem," she said. "I'll be back." Holding the little lamp in front of her, she began to crawl with her elbows.
The shaft was not exactly dry, but it was at least not full of water, either. She was grateful, once again, for the clothing Tsem had acquired for her; her elbows hurt already but she could imagine how badly they would be scraped if they were bare. Too, she could comfort herself with the thought that the slime that now darkened almost every inch of her was not, for the most part, on her skin. She sighed as Tsem continued to yell after her. The tube had the unfortunate quality of conducting sound undiminished. In fact, she remembered reading of priests using the tubes to talk to one another, communicating between shrines without need of actually sending a messenger.