Voice of the Gods

The road wound past rows of low stone walls, the remains of ancient houses. Or not so ancient, Barmonia amended. The city only died a few hundred years ago. Not like old Jeryma in the north or Karn in the south.

But the younger the ruin the less chance it had been plundered. In the past, Barmonia had opened tombs here still stuffed with treasures, and taken many statues and carvings back to Hannaya’s library and to sell to collectors. They weren’t as rare as the truly ancient pieces of other ruined cities, but they still attracted good prices. The statues often had remnants of paint on them, which buyers didn’t like, and he alone had found a method of removing it that didn’t harm the stone.

He smiled. If the directions written on the priest’s bones were correct, he was going to discover not just a new tomb, but a whole new section of the Temple of Sorli.

They were passing the larger houses near the top of the city now. Barmonia could hear Raynora talking to the woman.

“... over there. Public latrines. Yes, that’s right. They peed in front of their neighbors, and both men and women used them. Can you imagine the smell - oh, we dug up some of the dirt inside. No charcoal or dyes, but lots of the same straw-like stuff that we found in the latrines of private houses. Lots of coins, too...”

The road turned and they entered the first of the higher levels of the city in which public buildings had been constructed. Many walls still stood, as they had been made thicker and sturdier in order to support larger buildings. Ray named the buildings and described their uses.

Then the road turned again and they ascended into a large public square. The sight, as always, was both impressive and disturbing. It had been paved with enormous slabs of stone, and as the ground had shifted these had lifted and tilted. Few lay flat, so the whole space was an uneven jumble. Some of the slabs had even managed to shift into a vertical position, while others projected at such an angle that they looked as if they might fall over at any moment.

Ray fell silent as Barmonia dismounted and began to lead his mount and pack beast across the square. There had always been something eerie about this place. The wind made strange noises. The crossing took concentration and could not be done quickly. When heavily burdened, the arem could not deal with too great an incline.

When he reached the other side he breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting on a fallen column, he waited for the others to join him. The woman looked up at the structure behind him.

“The Temple of Sorli,” Raynora said quietly, leaning closer to her.

The others looked up and Barmonia watched as their faces fell.

“The dome is gone,” Yathyir said, pointing out the obvious.

“Yes.” Barmonia stood up and turned to regard the remains of the building. “It collapsed in a recent tremor most likely. Let’s hope it hasn’t blocked anything or we’ll have to get local help in.”

He handed the lead of the arem to a domestic then turned and walked inside.

Light and rubble now filled the large hall that had always been dimly lit. The former revealed the wall paintings in their full glory, as well as the damage that rain had caused. The latter had covered the floor with fragments from the size of pebbles to enormous slabs of stone. He made his way to the altar and paused to look up. The head of the massive stone goddess had broken off. He cast about and glimpsed an eye behind a large piece of the fallen dome.

Another piece rested between the back wall and the hips of the seated figure. He had to climb up into the wedge-shaped gap behind it to reach the doorway to the inner chamber. The magnificent carved doors had been removed centuries ago to become part of a collector’s mansion in Glymma.

Better that than rotting here, he thought. Or more likely the locals would have cut them up for firewood years ago.

The chamber beyond was roofed and dark, so he sent Ray back for torches. Barmonia was amused when Ray returned with only five and handed them out to the Thinkers, leaving the foreign woman without a light.

Perhaps he’s not as enchanted by her as he appears.

The inner chamber was a small room with an empty altar in the center. Barmonia had no idea where the statue had gone and would willingly pay a good sum to find out, but he had seen sketches of it. He was satisfied to see the woman was frowning at the altar.

“The bones said ‘Sorli will direct,’ ” she said. “Sorli is no longer here.”

“Obviously not,” Mikmer replied dryly.

“There’s a picture of her in the library,” Yathyir said gravely. “I remember it.”

Barmonia smiled. This was why he put up with the strange boy. He might be a freak, but his memory was impressively good.

“Describe her to us,” Barmonia ordered.

The youth considered the stone, then walked over to Raynora.

“Help me up,” he said.

Ray hoisted Yathyir up. The boy moved to the center of the altar and paused to think.

“She holds a cup in one hand and is pointing at the ground with the other,” he said, mimicking the pose.

“So the entrance to the secret temple is below this stone?” Ray asked, regarding the huge block dubiously.

“Probably.” Barmonia moved behind the stone and rubbed his shoe on the floor. “There are scratches here. Thinkers have always believed they were made when the stone was first moved here, but perhaps it was shifted more often than that.”

“How?” Yathyir asked, jumping down to examine the scratches.

“With magic,” Barmonia replied. “Skill is always a requirement of priests.”

“How are we going to shift it, then?”

“With our skills.” Barmonia turned to the entrance. “Which is why I brought so much equipment.”

“You didn’t need to,” the woman said quietly.

Barmonia turned to regard her. She no doubt wanted to show off whatever Skill she had, but he had no intention of letting her. “This should be moved gently and carefully or you—”

“Oh, spare me the lecture,” she interrupted. “You obviously don’t know anything about magic if you think it less subtle than levers and ropes.”

He felt anger flare at her arrogant tone, then bit back a curse as she turned her back on him to face the altar.

“Don’t you...” Taking a step forward, he reached out to grab her shoulders but his hands skittered over some invisible barrier. The others were moving backward, their faces betraying curiosity and excitement.

“I’ll lift it first,” she said to Ray. “Take a look underneath and tell me what you see.”

Barmonia felt a chill run down his spine as the altar stone rose slowly upward. His stomach clenched. Magic always had that effect on him. A woman should not be able to lift a huge block of stone. It was unnatural.

Ray dropped to the ground and examined the gap between the stone and the floor. Incredibly, he ran his hands under it, trusting that she wouldn’t drop the stone on him.

“There is a square hole beneath. Looks like you could slide the altar to the back of the room without breaking anything.”

The woman nodded and the stone began to move backward. A staircase descending into darkness was revealed. The stone settled onto the floor without a sound.

The bitch has control, Barmonia conceded. Then another thought occurred to him. If she is this powerful, how are we going to get rid of her?

They’d have to trick her, which shouldn’t be hard. She was a lone woman in a land she didn’t know, where people spoke a language she had admitted she had only recently learned. They might have to slip away from her rather than send her away. Whatever happened, he was not going to let some foreign sorceress take any of the credit for finding this tomb.

I can turn this to our advantage. If we tell people about her moving stones like some magical work beast, that’s all she’ll be remembered for.

He stepped forward. Suddenly respectful, she moved back and allowed him to lead the others down the