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shrine, and for her people and everything that they stood for. . . .
She set her teeth, and sweat ran cold from her armpits. "Imust!" she whispered aloud; and, giving herself
no more time to think, she opened the door and slipped through, shutting it quickly behind her.
She stood at the top of an immense stairwell leading down . . . and down . . . and down, grey steps
going down between grey walls in a grey haze beneath her, to which there seemed no end. She set her
foot on the first step; holding to the rail, she began the journey . . . down.
It was slow, chill creeping. Her heaviness dragged at her. Pain twisted her at intervals. The thud of her
sandalled feet jerked at her burdened belly with wrenching pulls. She moaned aloud at each brief
torture but went on, step down, thud, step down, thud, in senseless, dull repetition. She tried to count
the steps, in an effort to prevent her mind from dredging up all the half-forgotten, awful stories she had
heard of this place, to keep herself from wondering if she did, indeed, know better than to believe old
fairy-tales. She gave it up after the hundred and eighty-first step.
Now she was no longer holding the rail, but reeling and scraping against the wall; again pain seized her,
doubled and twisted her, forcing her to her knees. The greyness was shot through with crimson as she
straightened, bewildered and enraged, almost forgetting what grim purpose had brought her to this
immemorial mausoleum. . . .
She caught at the rail with both hands, fighting for balance as her face twisted terribly and she sobbed
aloud, hating the sanity that drove her on and down.
"Oh Gods! No, no, take me instead!" she whispered, and clung there desperately for a moment; then,
her face impassive again, holding herself grimly upright, she let the desperate need to do what must be
done carry her down, into the pallid greyness.
Chapter Three
DARK DAWN
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I
The sudden, brief jar of falling brought Deoris sharply upright, staring into the darkness in sudden fear.
Micail still slept in a chubby heap, and in the shadowy room, now lighted with the pale pink of dawn,
there was no sound but the little boy's soft breathing; but like a distant echo Deoris seemed to hear a cry
and a palpable silence, the silence of the tomb, of the Crypt.
Domaris!Where was Domaris? She had not returned. With sudden and terrible awareness, Deorisknew
where Domaris was! She did not pause even to throw a garment over her nightclothes; yet she glanced
unsurely at Micail. Surely Domaris's slaves would hear if he woke and cried and there was no time to
waste! She ran out of the room and fled downward, through the deserted garden.
Blindly, dizzily, she ran as if sheer motion could ward off her fear. Her heart pounded frantically, and her
sides sent piercing ribbons of pain through her whole body but she did not stop until she stood in the
shadow of the great pyramid. Holding her hands hard against the hurt in her sides, she was shocked at
last into a wide-awake sanity by the cold winds of dawn.
A lesser priest, only a dim figure in luminous robes, paced slowly toward her. "Woman," he said
severely, "it is forbidden to walk here. Go your way in peace."
Deoris raised her face to him, unafraid. "I am Talkannon's daughter," she said in a clear and ringing
voice. "Is the Guardian Rajasta within?"
The priest's tone and expression changed as he recognized her. "He is there, young sister," he said
courteously, "but it is forbidden to interrupt the vigil " He fell silent in amazement; the sun, as they
talked, had crept around the pyramid's edge, to fall upon them, revealing Deoris's unbound hair, her
disarranged and insufficient clothing.
"It is life or death!" Deoris pleaded, desperately. "I must see him!"
"My child I do not have the authority. . . ."
"Oh, you fool!" Deoris raged, and with a catlike movement, she dodged under his startled arm and fled
up the gleaming stone steps. She struggled a moment with the unfamiliar workings of the great brazen
door; twitched aside the shielding curtain, and stepped into brilliant light.
At the faint whisper of her bare feet for the door moved silently despite its weight Rajasta turned
from the altar. Disregarding his warning gesture, Deoris ran to fling herself on her knees before him.
"Rajasta, Rajasta!"
With cold distaste, the Priest of Light bent and raised her, eyeing the wild disarray of her clothing and
hair sternly. "Deoris," he said, "what are you doing here, you know the law and why like this! You're
only half dressed, have you gone completely mad?"
Indeed, there was some justification for his question, for Deoris met his gaze with a feverish face, and
her voice was practically a babble as her last scraps of composure deserted her. "Domaris! Domaris!
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She must have gone to the Crypt to the Dark Shrine."
"Youhave taken leave of your senses!" Unceremoniously, Rajasta half thrust her to a further distance
from the altar. "Youknow you may not stand here like this!"
"I know, yes, I know, but listen to me! I feel it, I know it! She burned the girdle and made me tell
her . . ." Deoris stopped, her face drawn with conflict and guilt, for she had suddenly realized that she
was now of her own volition betraying her sworn oath to Riveda! And yet she was bound to Domaris
by an oath stronger still.
Rajasta gripped her shoulder, demanding, "What sort of gibberish is this!" Then, seeing that the girl was
trembling so violently that she could hardly stand upright, he put an arm gingerly about her and helped her
to a seat. "Now tell me sensibly, if you can, what you are talking about," he said, in a voice that held
almost equal measures of compassion and contempt, "if you are talking about anything at all! I suppose
Domaris has discovered that you were Riveda'ssaji. "
"Iwasn't! I never was!" Deoris flared; then said, wearily, "Oh, that doesn't matter, you don't understand, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]