Talis breathed deeply of the cool air in the cavern beyond the arch. Without tinting from the Nexus-lit skies outside, the interior of the temple showed the true warm tones of the island’s sedimentary rocks. They were patterned with vibrant blue turquoise, and the architects of this temple had put the abundance of the mineral to use in their design. Lanterns flickered from the walls, and suspended chandeliers seemed to float in the darkness, their shades made from hand-carved panels of paper-thin stone, impeccably crafted to be translucent enough to transmit light yet maintain their structure so as not to crumble like chalk. The warm colors of the sandstone contrasted with the semi-precious turquoise, and the walls undulated to create a structured swirl of blue and orange, spiraling over the center of each room and then sweeping toward the floors.
The aliens stood beneath the archway, double-blinking at the darkness within, their faces unreadable as ever. Even their talkative captain seemed influenced by the hush of the temple, and made no comment as they waited to be received.
In the center of the great hall, a carved fountain was sculpted directly out of the existing rock so that there were no seams or joins. Sand flowed from some deep spring, up through the mouth of another Ketszali statue to pour over his shoulders down into the collecting pool below. Hooded acolytes raked the sand across an iron grate set into the floor. It flowed out of sight, almost fluid in its appearance, leaving behind chunks of the blue-green turquoise that were too big to fit through the filter. Another acolyte collected the stones in a woven basket to be taken to the temple artisans who would turn the unformed shapes into more works of art in Onaya Bone’s name.
Depicting the various moods and interests of the Lady, the walls of the great chamber were carved with additional relief: Onaya Bone performing an alchemical ritual on a great curved sword, Onaya Bone holding Ketszali on her forearm, the bird appearing normal in size compared to her impressive height.
On the wall opposite the entrance, over the heavy doors that led deeper into the convent, another relief of the goddess wore goggles and held a bell-shaped flask filled with darkness and another filled with light, the necks of which curved back down into their bodies and reconnected as a handle in one continuous form.
To their right, over a stone table inlaid with turquoise tiles in its surface, where pilgrims left offerings and donations, a statue of the goddess stood out from the wall. Her right hand was lifted to shoulder height, drawing sand from the nothingness that remained after the Cataclysm. In her left hand, palm facing upward, a pair of small figures were being shaped from the summoned grains: a tender depiction of the creation of the first Bone people. Only here was Onaya Bone’s face shown with a softened expression, as a loving mother, her eyelids lowered and the corners of her lips curved upward.
The silence of the hall was striking. Acolytes went without speaking for their first five years in service to their Lady. The wind outside and the shifting sands of the fountain hushed the quiet footsteps of those in training. Robed in sleeveless dark brown fabric that swept the sand on the floor as they walked, their clothing was minimal despite the chill in the shaded temple foyer. Sandals laced to their knees, and thin, gauzy material over simple body wraps that covered only their most intimate anatomy.
Their discipline was remarkable, considering the company Talis had brought with her. In a Bone temple, a Cutter woman was unusual enough to warrant stares, but you’d think she and her company were Bone peasants from Talonpoint, based on the response they received. Save for the lone figure who stepped forward out of the shadows to meet them at the entrance, the acolytes paid them no attention.
The senior acolyte, identifiable by a simple turquoise pendant hung from a golden chain, beckoned them to follow her. The veined walls pressed closer to them from the sides and above as the great hall bottlenecked into narrower passages leading deeper into the mesa. Here and there, blue light fixtures shone from niches carved into the walls. The style of the architecture was not so grand now. Plain steel doors were aligned at even distances without any indication as to what lay behind them. As familiar with the order of priestesses as Talis was, she knew they could just as easily be rooms meant for meditation or interrogation.
“Talis! I was quite surprised to hear you came to visit me. It has been what? Four years?”
“At least that, High Priestess.”
The chamber of High Priestess Illiya was yet another grand room carved into the stone. They had descended several staircases on their way in, and Talis had the sense that the high ceilings of these chambers, lit brightly with sconces and chandeliers to the very top, were still below ground level.
Centered in the wall opposite them was another fountain of sand. Unlike the freestanding sculpted one in the great hall, this fountain poured from the wall out of a thin horizontal slit, part of a relief carving of Fall Island itself. From the edge, the sands cascaded down, tumbled over rock outcroppings and then a smooth wall punctuated with stars, which were shaped by turquoise lenses in the wall that hid candles in spaces behind.
The high priestess stood by a large desk on the right-hand wall, overseeing the organization of the temple’s sacred archives. She wore a black robe with high sculpted shoulders and draping folds that simulated the rounded posture of a winged
