Kushiel's Chosen

smile. "Then be careful, you," he said aloud.
    I nodded, took a deep breath, and began to ascend the stair.
    It is harder to move silently in utter blackness, which is what I found myself in once the sharply rising walls cut off sight of the tunnel below. All sounds seem magnified, and one is prone to a vertiginous unsteadiness without vision's markers. As well that Delaunay made Alcuin and me train at such things blindfolded. I let my fingertips trail along the slimy walls and climbed steadily, step by noiseless step. True to his word, Joscelin followed several paces behind me. He did a fair job of stealth-Cassilines are trained to move with grace and balance and discretion, all of which stood him in good stead-but I could hear him clearly enough; an occasional scrape or creak of leather, the faint sound of his breathing.
    Then again, I am trained to hear such things, too.
    As it happens, our stealth on the stair was unnecessary; 'twas sealed at the top with another door. I felt at the slick, mossy wood with both hands and pressed my ear to it, grimacing with distaste. Faintly, very faintly, I could make out the sound of voices beyond, a low, rhythmic chanting.
    In the Temple, I thought; not near enough to be immediately on the other side of the door. I tried the handle cautiously. It was locked, of course.
    "The eunuch may have a key." Joscelin spoke at my ear, so quietly his breath scarce stirred my hair.
    "And he may not," I murmured in reply, reaching for my brooch. " 'Twill be quicker, this way." I found the lock by touch, working the pin in blindly; it does not matter, for such a task. The faint scratching sound rattled loud in my ears.
    "I am sorry," Joscelin said almost inaudibly, "we never found a way to free him."
    So he thought of Hyacinthe too.
    "Don't say never. We're not dead yet." The lock gave and I held my breath at the thundering clatter, going still and listening.
    "Did you get it?" Joscelin whispered; he hadn't heard a thing. "Is it open?"
    I nodded, forgetting he couldn't see. "Stay back." I turned the handle, opening the door narrowly. Only a dim, ambient light filtered through the crack and I could hear the chanting more clearly now. Four or more voices; it was hard to discern, in unison, but of a surety, it came from a distance, echoing from the dome of the Temple. I listened hard for anything nearer, and heard naught. Repinning my cloak, I drew its hood up and slipped through the door, ducking low to crouch with both hands splayed on the floor.
    Nothing before me, and only the door behind. I was hi a low-ceilinged hall that slanted upward toward a tall, narrow archway. It framed a balconied alcove, in which sat a three-legged stool. To the right and left of the alcove, clearly visible from behind, were openings onto dark chambers, slanted recesses which, like the hallway, would have been nearly undetectable from the front. Lying flat on my belly, I squirmed forward, positioning myself behind the stool to gaze through its legs and the balustrade beyond into the Temple.
    Directly opposite me was the massive visage of Asherat-of-the-Sea, wide-eyed and staring, a crescent moon adorning her brow; old, this goddess was, ancient and mighty! I caught my breath, staring back at her, feeling a cold sweat break out between my shoulder blades. I have come to keep my promise, I reminded her silently; have a care for your children's children, O Asherat!
    Below, the Temple was filled with candlelight and the sweet blue smoke of incense. I wormed my way forward to peer down at the sight. Seven women stood before the stone altar and the mighty image of the goddess; seven women clad in robes of flowing blue silk, with silver netting overlaying it and shimmering, crystal-strung veils. The one in the center wore a tiara on her unbound hair, with seven diamonds set in starry silver rays. The Priestess of the Crown, I thought, and her six Elect. One had hair as white as milkweed, upraised hands gnarled with age; old Bianca, who had told my fortune true. This would be her balcony from which I espied, then, for surely she was the rightful Oracle.
    I felt a little better, to think on it.
    And which had betrayed their goddess for gold or mortal power? Vespasia, I knew; that was the name of Bianca's successor, who had given the Doge false foretelling. Was she one of the Elect? I had no way of guessing. The Priestess of the Crown? Mayhap. If not her, it had to be one or more of the Elect. Such risk, such blasphemy, was