Right-Quentha chuckled. 'Ours is a dark, looking-glass world.' She made them both dance a little.
The Halls of Thunder and the Labyrinth,' added her sister, forcing their three feet firmly to the floor.
Theirs is the world of the sun, across the Skymere.'
'And yet, on occasion, you permit them to come here into your world?' Carnelian said.
They both looked at him. 'It is a concession the House of the Masks makes to the Great,' Left-Quentha began.
'And only during such dark days as these,' her sister continued.
'And even then they have to lock themselves in here, within this fortress, from fear of us,' said the other, fiercely.
Carnelian smiled indulgently. They had taken on a poise that he could see was making an impression on the nervous faces of his guardsmen.
With a grin, Right-Quentha became a girl again. 'And would our dear like to see the chambers that will be his father's?'
Carnelian nodded and they led him back into the chamber of doors and across it to a golden mirror that showed the sybling sisters to themselves. This was a door that brought them into an atrium where the sisters said the tyadra of He-who-goes-before could defend their Lord. The guardsmen peered into the quarters leading off it that their fellows would occupy. Another gold mirror door was opened and Carnelian's eyes widened as he looked in. He followed the syblings into the chamber. The thick gold of the walls was moulded into wheels, rayed eyes and huge ruby-seeded pomegranates. The floor was fossilled stone-wood ribbed and lozenged with carnelian. Gorgeous apartments opened off on either side, every wall and door and ceiling a piece of jewellery.
When Carnelian had marvelled at everything, the Quenthas announced that it was time to see the Hall of the Sun in Splendour. They returned to the chamber of doors whose marbles seemed to Carnelian suddenly drab. A double portcullis was opened allowing them to walk down a tunnel into a vast columned hall. This too was panelled entirely with gold. Carnelian saw they had entered it through a side door. At the hall's far end, with their sun-eye, were the huge bolted doors that opened into the nave. Opposite them, behind a dais at the other end, the wall held a glowing mosaic of rosy gems that Right-Quentha called the Window of the Dawn.
'On that dais, your father will kneel to give audience to the Seraphim.'
Across from where they stood, down the long side of the hall, ran a series of tall and narrow amber windows. Carnelian walked towards one. He touched its mosaic of molten gold. The window formed the image of an angel like a man in flames; only the eyes of watery grey diamond suggested this might be a representation of a Master. Carnelian walked along the line of windows. In the terrible burning beauty of their faces, their eyes were such cruel winter.
Carnelian's foot stubbed against something on the floor. He turned to look down at it. 'A trapdoor?'
'It is nothing, Seraph,' said Left-Quentha.
‘Surely it must lead somewhere?'
'A fright of steps down to ancient halls.' Right-Quentha made a gesture to take in their surroundings. 'Precursors to these. Ruined now a thousand years.'
Carnelian imagined these ancient dusty wonders. 'Could we not go and see them?'
They are decayed, Seraph,' said Left-Quentha.
'Lightless,' her sister added.
'Filthy.'
Carnelian made a smiling sign with his hand. 'Just a peek?'
Right-Quentha could not help a smile.
'We must not,' her sister whispered to her.
'Just a peek,' said Right-Quentha. 'Where would the harm be in that?'
Left-Quentha turned away, blinking her stone eyes, pursing her tattooed lips. Her sister forced her to bend when she herself bent down to lift a handle in the trapdoor. Left-Quentha gave in. They crouched, took the handle with all four hands and pulled. The cover stone grated open, spilling light down the steps.
The Seraph should send his guardsmen ahead,' said Left-Quentha.
Carnelian turned to his men and saw with what terror they were peering down into the depths.
'What's the matter with you lot?' asked Carnelian in Vulgate.
They began to kneel. He focused on one and grabbed his shoulder to stop him. 'Well?'
'Master… it's said this whole mountain's hollow.' The man stared, slack-eyed.
'And so?'
The Gods and the Masters walk the higher levels but in the lower they keep… you keep…' The man's voice tailed off, then he whispered,'… monsters.'
Carnelian threw his head back and laughed. He turned to the syblings. 'It seems they are afraid.'
Left-Quentha regarded them imperiously with her stone eyes. 'Slaves are always afraid. Soon enough we will have them trotting down those steps.' The syblings rose, both stone eyes and living fixed menacingly on the guardsmen.
Carnelian lifted his hands. There is no point in forcing them. I do not want to be deafened by the chattering of their teeth. We will go alone.'
The syblings frowned. 'As the Seraph commands.' They walked round Carnelian, scattering his guardsmen. Each sister demanded a sword.
'I will go first,' said Carnelian.
'We will go first, Seraph,' they said together, showing the swords the guardsmen had given them.
Carnelian could see that they would brook no argument and stepped aside to let them lead the descent into the darkness.
Left-Quentha carried the lantern and Carnelian followed behind, peering between their shoulders at the steps revealed by its jiggling beam. Although the steps were smoothly cut, the walls were roughly hewn. The stair wound from side to side, and several times passed places where a porthole fed in a ray of daylight.
At last they reached the bottom and the Quenthas moved out into black echoing space. They lifted the lantern and spread its light across the floor to find the further wall.
'Behold the first Hall of the Sun in Splendour. No He-who-goes-before has stood here for a thousand years,' they whispered together.
Carnelian turned. The stair was a ragged rupture in the corner. 'Where is the gold?' he whispered.
It grew brighter as the Quenthas came up to him. Left-Quentha slid her hand over the wall and found something. Her sister caught Carnelian's hand and drew it to replace Left-Quentha's. He could feel a hole deep enough to stick his finger in.
The plates that were attached here were carried up there.' Left-Quentha pointed at the ceiling.
They wandered off across the chamber. The floor was mouldy with dust. The Quenthas showed him the dais and the blocked-up hole where the ancient jewelled Window of the Dawn had been. Carnelian walked down between the grim pillars to the door. Through its gaping maw was utter darkness. He called the syblings to his side. All three of them hung together in the door mouth casting the light out into a nave. Although this was on a smaller scale than the one above, it still ran off further than their light could reach.
Carnelian looked round him. 'Was this then the original sun-eyed door?'
In answer the Quenthas stood on tiptoe and reached up to touch half a hinge of twisted dull bronze.
'Please, let us go a little further,' Carnelian whispered.
The sisters turned to each other as if they were having a silent conference. Brandishing their swords, they took some steps into the nave. Carved columns ran off on either side. All together, they walked on, and however far they went their lantern found more columns.
At last their light showed a narrowing end to the nave, another doorway, its gates long ago torn from its jaws. Beyond more darkness spread without apparent limit. They crept into this.
'The ancient Chamber of the Three Lands,' whispered Left-Quentha.
'See,' her sister hissed as she tapped the floor with her foot.
Carnelian leant over but could see nothing but an age-pitted floor. He shook his head.
'Walk with us, Carnelian,' said Left-Quentha.
However lightly they put down their feet, their footsteps produced echoes. The syblings were feeling their way with the lantern beam as if it were a stick.
