46
“Stay close,” Sarra said as she led her priests into the Hollows of Solus. She was searching for a particular passage—one that the priests of old, in the time before the sealing of the Shroud Wall, traveled to enter the Empyreal Domain, a passage known as Mithra’s Door. She needed to confirm what she had found in the Shambles, to make certain the throne room was empty and the Soleri were all gone—a daunting task, but not one she could ignore. I need to know if the gods are truly dead. Mithra’s Door was said to lead from the Ata’Sol, through the Shroud Wall, and into to the throne room of the emperor. Sarra had read about the passage but never searched for it. Prior to her encounter in the Shambles, it had never occurred to her to seek out the door. Opening it would expose her to the emperor, to certain death, to the immortal and intolerable light of the god. But there was no Tolemy. The gods were dead. They were stars and stones. Ash and obsidian. The Empyreal Domain was empty—or so she hoped.
Sarra traveled the corridors with three priests. One read from a scroll, following an ancient set of instructions, while the second held an oil lamp, the third tools—a pick, a hammer, a few chisels, and an adze.
She slowed her pace, allowing the men to move a little ahead of her. Over morning meal a scroll had arrived from Rifka. Her daughter had wedded Dagrun Finner, the king of the Ferens, which meant that she had left Harwen. Kepi was in Rifka now and Sarra tried to picture what she might look like, the woman she had become, but too much time had passed since she last laid eyes on her daughter. In truth, Sarra knew about as much about Kepi as she knew about Dagrun. They were both a mystery. She only hoped the rumors about Dagrun—that he was a violent man, a brutish smuggler and thief—were untrue.
Sarra nearly collided with the wall. The light was gone, her priests having left her behind. She rounded a corner and caught sight of the lamp.
“A bit slower,” she said. “We don’t know what’s down here.”
Indeed, the dust here was finger-deep and the cobwebs were everywhere. No one had come this way in a very long time.
They edged around corners, making certain they were alone and the way was safe. Even if the Soleri were gone, their shadow lingered over the Empyreal Domain, following her every step, making her startle as they lit each new passage. Up ahead, the lamplight illuminated ornately patterned walls. Star and palmate motifs embellished the ceiling and walls. Rendered in bright lapis and dotted with shades of umber, the many small stones reflected circles of light in all directions. She guessed, by the character and quality of the designs, the tunnel dated to the Middle Kingdom. Only the emperors of the Amber Age, the great builders, would dedicate such opulence to a subterranean corridor, a pathway traveled only by priests.
“The door is up ahead,” the man holding the scroll announced, his voice wavering a bit, with expectation, perhaps, or dread. “Open it,” Sarra said, not hesitating, not wanting to pause for fear that she might lose her nerve. Her priests laid down their wares. They put their palms to the door and pushed. The great bronze door, its face crusted with verdigris, squealed on its hinges. The men shook their wrists, adjusted their footing, and pushed again. The door creaked open by degrees, slowly revealing a dark space beyond.
“Lamps,” Sarra said.
Her priests raised oil lamps, but the light revealed nothing more than a wall of roughly set stones erected only a few paces back from the bronze door. At the edges of the barrier she saw magnificent decorations. Chips of agate sparkled on the ceiling and the walls were clad in bronze, the surfaces adorned in the curling symbols of the hieratic script. Sarra had crossed into the Empyreal Domain—she knew it. All that stood in her path was the stone wall.
“Remove a stone,” she said, quickly gesturing to one of her priests, who lifted a slender pick and began digging at the top of the wall. “Quietly,” she said, though she guessed the task could not be accomplished without making a bit of noise.
Her priests grunted as they removed a round boulder about the size of a man’s head. The opening revealed a second wall, sitting directly behind the first. There was a snake carved in the shape of a ring incised in the stone. Someone was awfully thorough, she thought, though the precautions did make some sense. The builders didn’t want anyone to wander into the throne room of the dead Soleri, after all.
“Keep going,” she said, encouraging the men, but with all their labors it still took an hour to pierce the first wall. Her priests had to carefully and painstakingly remove each stone, chipping at the grout between them, prying at the rounded rocks with picks. In the meantime, every sound, every crack of stone or iron rattled her nerves. If they were discovered, this breach would cost them their lives. But no one came to arrest them, no guard approached. No one had come this way, she guessed, for many years.
The digging revealed that the second wall was newer than the first; its stones more carefully laid, the coursing more regular, and the blocks were larger too and they took more time to dislodge. They had to push the first stone into the corridor beyond to dislodge it. It landed there with a mighty thump, cracking the tiles inside and making an awful racket.
She cringed again, listening to see if anyone was there, if a bell rang or a shout echoed. She waited, but no sound rattled the corridor. They were alone, so Sarra lifted one of the lamps and peered through the opening, past the wall and into the corridor beyond. Dust choked the passage, but the way was clear and the corridor was empty. The only signs of life were the tracks left long ago by mice, shallow indentations that were themselves covered in a layer of dust. Nothing, she thought. There’s no one here. The throne room’s as empty as this passage, as barren as the solar I found in the Shambles.
“Clear the way,” she said. “I will send provisions and more lamps. Open the corridor, but do not venture into the domain.” She was already retreating toward the Ata’Sol. When sufficient time had passed for the men to clear the passage, she would send a single priest, one loyal to her alone. He would carry cool amber and bread, both laced with strychnine, or mandrake root. She cringed at the thought, but saw no other option.