Paedrin put his hand on her cheek. It was wet with tears. “I will see you through this, Hettie. We will make it through this.”
“But how?” She sounded so doubtful it pained him. “My best wasn’t enough tonight. I failed. If you hadn’t been there to catch me—”
“I was.”
Her head thumped against his chest again. She clung to him, nestling against him as if he were the only thing in the world left to cling to—the only piece of comfort she had left in her fractured life. And he realized, with deepening awareness, that she was the only source of comfort left in his.
“Let us train our minds to desire what the situation demands.”
—Possidius Adeodat, Archivist of Kenatos
The entrance to Basilides was carved into the face of the mountainside, a series of murals, intricate columns, and inset arches that gave the entire formation the appearance of an enormous hollowed skull. Scaffolding was erected on the left side where workers constantly hammered and chiseled the stone, expanding the openings and continuing the designs. It was three levels tall, with an open bronze-shod door where the mouth should be, and twin empty windows for eye sockets. Runes were carved throughout the design, arcane and impressive. It rose in the distance, at the rounded end of the valley. The waters of the lake had been dammed, providing space for the scaffolding and workers, but it was clear that when the monument was finished, the barriers would be breached and the entrance only approachable by boat and oars.
Annon crouched behind a massive fallen boulder and spied the creation, listening to the echoes of the hammer strokes off the jagged walls of the cliff. Amidst the haze of stone dust, he counted several dozen workers and a scattering of black-robed Rikes.
The trap they had overcome at the mountain pass behind them still lingered in his mind. His heart lurched with fear at how perilously close to dying they had come. He had assumed his fireblood would sustain him. The realization that he was wrong sent throbs of doubt and caution throughout his stomach.
Annon turned to Lukias. “How long has this been under construction?”
“A few years, no more. There are natural caves inside these mountains, creating a maze to confuse those who do not know the way. What you see there is just the outside works. The inner sanctum is guarded.”
“By what precisely?” Erasmus asked, rubbing his chin.
Lukias glanced at him in annoyance. “Many things, Preachán. My advice would be to approach and seek audience with the Arch-Rike’s emissary here.”
Annon wrinkled his eyebrows. “And do what? Ask him for permission to use the oracle?”
Lukias gripped his shoulder firmly. “I told you before. This place is treacherous. You will not be able to navigate to the inner sanctum without my help or you risk wandering aimlessly and meeting your deaths in a dozen ways. A negotiation might be engaged.”
Nizeera growled petulantly.
“I don’t think so,” Annon replied. “What can you tell me of the nature of the oracle?”
“Nothing,” Lukias replied. “Just as you do not share your Druidecht lore with me. You must discover it on your own. Ours is at least written down in The Book of Breathings. Have you read it, Khiara? I would be surprised if you had not.”
“Yes,” she answered simply. “My cousin the prince has a copy of The Book of Breathings. It is very symbolic—we lack the true keys to decipher it.”
Annon suspected as much. With only one entrance to the oracle, it likely would force a confrontation with the Arch-Rike’s minions. Annon secretly hoped they might find a way to steal inside, gain the information they needed, and then return. Nearly fifty men guarding the entrance would prove a challenge, unless he resolved upon a strategy.
Turning to face the group, Annon rested his back on the boulder. “A thought to consider: I believe there are some spirits in the area here that may be able to help us. They seem to have hard feelings against the Rikes and would do them harm if asked. I know down in Wayland, woodcutters who violate the places the spirits deem special are often tricked or hindered by these spirits. I have no intention of harming the workers, but we need to get them away from the scaffolds and away from the main door. Fire would accomplish this. If the scaffolds are burning, it creates smoke to obstruct the view and would lead them to the waters to put it out. We use the confusion of the fire to enter.” He shrugged. “I am open to other thoughts.”
Khiara looked pensive and gripped her long staff, leaning against it and staring out across the lake waters. Erasmus took another peek around the boulder and studied the front.