“The symbol combines three ideas: house, stone, and stars. The order dictates the overall meaning. When drawn in this configuration, the symbol reads ‘house of stone, house of stars.’ We found instances of this same mark in the documents loaned from the Harkan repository. We were uncertain why the Harkan literature referenced the symbol until we found the road.”
“The road leads to Harkana?”
Noll nodded reluctantly. “To the Shambles. We could send priests, but the Shambles is a forbidden place. Only Harkan royalty are permitted to enter the sacred grounds.”
Sarra knew the prohibitions attached to the Shambles. She was once Harkan royalty herself, and since Arko had stripped her of her title but had never disowned her, she was still due the benefits of the king’s wife. But she had not stepped foot within Harkana since she left her husband ten years prior. The Shambles was a dangerous place, filled with reavers and outlanders from the High Desert. She risked her life by going there.
Sarra leaned over the drawings, studying the symbols and considering her options. She had searched for storehouses all over the empire and had found success, but more often than not she had found only failure, tombs and caverns that had long ago been emptied of their grain by thieves or animals or the elements. In the past, she had sent only acolytes to search for the grain, but now she must make the journey herself.
Is the amaranth worth my life? Maybe. A new storehouse might put off the impending crisis, buying her a few more years. If the shortage were discovered, the rabble would tear her apart, just like they did with Garia on the last day of the year.
In the end, she had little choice in the matter.
“I’ll go to the Shambles. I was once their queen,” she said. “If I make the journey, the Harkans will not block our convoy. As a member of their first family it is within my right to request an escort and entry into the Shambles.” She would send word to the Harkans, requesting soldiers and horses to aid her on their journey.
Noll looked uncertain, but Sarra saw no other way. “You’ll come along as well,” Sarra said, urging him to stand. “We leave in two days’ time.”
29
“Why have you come?” Arko said to the slender man who stood in the doorway. Groggy from sleep, he remembered only vaguely what happened the day before, the tour of the Empyreal Domain, and the bloody spot Suten left when he fell dead on the stones. Afterward Arko had stumbled back into the Hollows of Solus. He had not wanted to slumber in the domain of the Soleri. The thought of sleeping there gave him a bitter chill, so he had sought accommodations elsewhere. In the many waiting rooms outside of the Shroud Wall he had found this small chamber with an unused pallet, and had made his bed.
Now someone had come to wake him. The man was short and slender, robed in gold, his skin as dark and wrinkled as a sun-dried date, his bald head stippled with silvery hairs. The man did not reply to Arko’s question, which had long since passed. He only waved his hands in fawning motions as he knelt before Arko, his forehead touching the stone as he bowed to the new Ray of the Sun.
“Up,” said Arko. And the man stood, slowly.
“My lord,” the man said, “I am Khalden Wat, the servant of the Ray. I’ve been looking for you. It’s my duty, my master, Suten Anu, bid me to serve you.”
“Your master is gone.” Suten Anu was rotting in the throne room of the Soleri, but this man didn’t know that; he could not enter the domain of the emperors.
The servant nodded. “He bid me to guide you in the ways of the Soleri and the customs of the court. That is why I am here.”
“Well, what is it then?” Arko asked impatiently.
“It is time,” said Wat, “for the new Ray to perform his first and most important duty.”
“What’s that?”
“Letting them know you exist.”
Arko raised an eyebrow.
“It is time for the people of Sola to wake up to a new Ray. The light must shine upon the mountain, then the people will know that a new Ray wears the Eye of the Sun.”
“Give me a moment,” Arko grumbled. His muscles ached and his head throbbed. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and swung his legs over the side of the bed. A deep sluggishness had settled into all of his limbs, so that it took him a great deal of mental and physical effort just to move his arms and legs. Lying on the bed far belowground, crouching in the meager chamber, he had the feeling of being buried alive—a not entirely unwelcome sensation, given the magnitude of the task that Suten Anu had left to him. In many ways he wished the old man had simply taken his head, rather than the other way around. No. Arko took back his wish. He did not regret what he’d done, the task he had accepted, the life he had taken. He felt sick, dizzy. There was blood on his hands and he needed a drink. He had grown accustomed to starting his day with an oilskin of amber, sometimes two. How shall I eat? Who will feed me?
Wat glanced at his bloodied hands, but he made no mention of them. “There is a tower at the far end of the Empyreal Domain, a structure set apart from the others. The men and women of the Kiltet service this place; go there and they will provide you with food and clothing, anything you require. Once you are Ray, when this day is finished, you will have no need to visit this place.” He wiped a strip of dust from the wall. “This is a place for ghosts, come here too often and you might scare them away.” Wat rubbed the gray dust from his finger. “The tower was Suten’s home, and now it is yours. You may go there when we are finished. Today we travel to another place, to a chamber buried deep beneath the mountain.”
Arko stood, brushed the sleep from his eyes, and pushed his hair back behind his ears. When he was ready, Wat lit a lamp and led him out of the room, following a path different from the one Arko had taken the previous day. Wat guided him through underground chambers of magnificent size. The halls here were brightly ornamented. Slabs of calcite, lapis, jade, and alabaster painted the walls, each stone emblazoned with the symbols of the forgotten tongue. These passages belong to the Soleri. These halls are meant for gods. Indeed, he noticed the exaggerated height of the ceilings, the preposterous width of the corridors. This was a space built for beings whose proportions, or at least their egos, must have dwarfed those of normal men.
“All this was theirs?” Arko asked. “They lived here once?”