Mission To Mahjundar (9 page)

Leaning over, Mike realized the top of the red stone was polished enough for him to see his reflection in the surface. “No dust?”
How is that possible?

The top had two perfectly shaped oval indentations, each about a yard long and half a yard wide at the center. Although several messy nests were in the rotunda directly above, there were no bird droppings anywhere on the stone. Flicking the safety before holstering his gun, Mike reached out to touch the gleaming surface.
 

“What the hell?” His fingers stopped six inches above the block, as if he’d tried to press his hand through glass. Cursing, he yanked his hand away. His skin, reddened where it had met the invisible obstacle, felt if it had been scorched by open flame.
 

“Careful,” Shalira said. “The Altar of the Ten Gods deals harshly with the uninitiated.”

“I'll take your word for it. I meant no disrespect.” He blew on his fingers. “How old is this place? Why doesn't your father do something about fixing it up?”

“The temple dates to the earliest beginnings of civilization on Mahjundar. There used to be hundreds of these temples scattered throughout the empire. But the worship of the Ten Gods is fading, except perhaps in the most rural areas.” Shalira frowned. “Empress Maralika doesn’t believe in their power, preferring new temples, alternate beliefs.”

Mike considered the fading paint. “So she doesn't exactly encourage your father to spend money on the old gods?”

Shalira pursed her lips. “I was sure I heard my father approve funds for this work.”

Mike remembered what he’d been told in his briefing about the Empress Maralika's accounts in the big, secretive banks on New Switzerland.
I bet I know where the authorized funds ended up.

Vreely was tapping his booted foot impatiently on the bottom step. “We’re wasting time. Get the key, Your Highness, and let us get on with the journey.”

“What do you need to do?” asked Mike, pivoting her to face him.
 

 
She faltered, closing her eyes and rubbing her forehead. “I—I'm not totally sure. I observed the ceremony performed in reverse at my great-uncle's funeral, when my father commended the key for his tomb to the keeping of the Ten.”
 

Of course, she hadn't been blind then. This whole errand must be stirring up powerful memories for her—better get it over with as fast as possible.
Mike glanced at the impatient Mahjundan officer.
Maybe Vreely’s right about some things.
 

“We must make an offering.” The princess freed her hand from Mike's. “Could you open this pouch for me and set the items in my hands?” Fumbling at her belt, she detached a small red leather purse, which she held out.
 

Unknotting the rawhide strip at the neck of the purse, he removed ten different things loosely packed inside, carefully depositing them in Shalira's cupped hands. There was an iridescent feather from some rare bird, a sachet of rich perfume, an exquisite jade carving of a deer-like creature, ten tiny golden bells strung on a fine chain, and other miniature treasures he’d no time to examine.
One for each god, I suppose.

“This is the last item.” He laid an enameled brooch encrusted with baroque pearls on top of the pile in her hands and tucked the small purse away in a pocket.

Tightening her fingers around the precious hoard, Shalira raised her arms. Bathed in sunlight streaming from the skylights, she chanted in a variation of the Mahjundan language that his hypnotraining hadn’t included. Her voice was lyrical, mesmerizing in the way the rhythm rose and fell. Realizing he was dizzy, Mike blinked hard, reaching to steady himself against the red block.
 

Within the chamber, a humming had begun, like an accompaniment to the chanting, but in a much deeper tonal range. The strange sound vibrated through his spine and behind his ears in an unpleasant way. As if a breeze had sprung up inside the room, the dust and debris on the floor shifted hither and yon, moved into small piles. It was as if he and Shalira were cut off from the others, isolated on the island of the dais by sound and a wall of wind. Now the princess lowered her offering toward the block’s surface. Mike reached out, guiding her hands toward the closer of the two oval depressions. Electricity tingled through his nerves, blue fire danced in the air and he couldn’t release her fingers. His hands supported hers.
 

This time there was no invisible shield to prevent him from touching the stone. Contact with the altar hit Mike like ice water. Shivering, he felt Shalira trembling violently next to him, but the princess continued her ritual with no break in the song, although her voice grew wobbly. At last, their hands separated, and he jerked his fingers back. Shalira held one final, lingering note, suddenly opening her cupped hands.
 

The gifts she offered drifted the last few inches into the stone oval. One by one, as if falling through thick glue, the items touched the rock and disappeared in showers of red, yellow and turquoise sparks.

Shalira fell silent, licking her lips and lowering her head. She took a step backward. Hastily, Mike reached out to steady her and prevent her from toppling off the edge of the dais. Head against his chest, she leaned into him. “Is the offering accepted?” Her whisper was so thready he could barely hear the words. “Is there a key in the other bowl?”

“Lords of Space, there
is
a key.” He guided her fingers to the key that had materialized as a result of her entreaty. Carved from the same red rock as the altar, the massive key had three sparkling jewels set in the long shaft. The gemstones glowed red, yellow and turquoise as Shalira clutched it to her chest.

“Are you all right?” Johnny leaped onto the small dais. “The dust kicked up so fierce I couldn't see you. When I tried to climb up to watch your six, I was knocked clean off my feet. Felt like a force field. I'll have the bruises to show for it tomorrow.” His focus drifted to the princess, and he whistled. “Proper key for a tomb you’ve got there.”
 

“Your Highness, if we're finished in here, I think you need to get into the sunshine and relax for a few minutes before we open your mother's tomb,” Mike said. “You're shaking like a leaf. I don’t know about anyone else, but I could use a shot of black wine.”

“I’d like to sit and drink a cup of tea,” she agreed in a faint, raspy voice, clearing her throat.

The small party retraced their steps through the dark corridor without incident. Evidently the snakes had decided it was better to be somewhere else for the balance of this afternoon.

Rojar was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He eyed the key Shalira was carrying, but didn't ask any questions. In one hand he had a mug of steaming tea for the princess. In the other, he held the wineskin. “Here, I brewed spice tea for you, Your Highness. I’ve attended enough royal funerals to know the chanter needs an energy-reviving drink after the ceremony. I've fixed up a place in the shade for you to sit.”

“Thanks,” Mike said on Shalira’s behalf, taking the wineskin. “Lead the way.”

They took a break for at least half an hour while Shalira gradually recuperated. Sitting on a horse blanket Rojar spread out for her, she drank two cups of the spice tea. She kept her eyes closed as if her blindness wasn’t enough of a barrier between herself and the world right now. Mike had a long drink from the wineskin, enjoying the inner warmth it provided. Despite the heat of the relentless sun, he felt chilled to the bone. Sitting beside the princess, he wondered what challenge they’d face next on this strange quest. He debated offering Johnny’s services with the medkit, but on the whole she seemed physically fine, merely withdrawn.

After she’d downed the second cup and had more color in her cheeks, Mike touched her hand. “How are you doing?”

Opening her eyes, turning to the sound of his voice, she placed the empty mug on the blanket beside her and stretched. “Nothing to complain about. The tea helped steady my nerves. I didn’t mean to be rude, but I’ve been praying and resting, taking in the energy left in this holy place,” she said, rising but not moving away from him.

It was hard to concentrate with Shalira standing so close to him, her perfume a gentle accent. As he hastily stood, Mike fought his physical reaction to her proximity, resisted the temptation to sweep her into his arms. Forbidden fruit indeed.

“Do you know,” she said, “if I’d been born a thousand years ago, I would have been a high priestess? Even a hundred years ago, the gods were still respected, worshipped. I could have found my home in a temple, made my place happily, because I’m one who can channel the energy of the gods. Blind or not, I would have been cherished.” She bit her lip and winced, as if perhaps she’d not meant to reveal so much emotion.

“Is channeling energy what we did in there?” It was as good a description as any of what he’d felt during the ceremony.

 
She nodded, a wistful expression on her face. “Yes. I’ve never felt anything but crumbs of the power before. Until today, with you at my side. But now the people venerate other gods or no gods at all, and there’s no need for priestesses with my gift. No need for me even here at what used to be an important shrine.”

Saium walked up, interrupting the intimate moment. “Are you ready to proceed, Your Highness?”

“We’d better get going if we want to finish our task and leave the valley by dusk.” Her voice was husky, probably from the singing, but definitely stronger. “We can ride into the valley. Mother's tomb is the fifteenth one on the left side of the canyon.”

“I’ll recognize it.” Saium stared fixedly at the key.

“Then let's get going,” Mike said.

CHAPTER FOUR

As he rode through a narrow defile at the crumbling western side of the temple, Mike realized the canyon opened up beyond. The valley was long, perhaps five miles. He hadn’t ridden more than a hundred feet before passing the first of many heavy stone doors, each set flush into the canyon walls. The massive stone portals were well over nine feet tall, carved from single slabs of stone. In the center of each door was an indentation shaped like the key Shalira carried.

“I think my father will be the last to be buried here,” Shalira said somewhat sadly as the column picked its way through the valley. “If there are any priests left by the time he passes on. Empress Maralika certainly doesn't intend to be placed here, although I know he’s authorized a tomb to be prepared for her. I doubt if her son, the heir, subscribes to any religious views, never having heard a whisper of anything spiritual about him.” She laughed.
 

“No problem with grave robbers, I’m guessing,” Johnny said as they rode past another huge, blank door, this one veined in gray and black marble. “I wouldn't want to be here at night. I can see why Vreely is so pushy about us getting the job done and getting out of here.”

Saium spoke up. “The next door will be the emperor's tomb, then we arrive at the tomb of Shalira’s mother.”

Mike rode past a dark, gaping hole in the canyon. One of the big black slabs of rock lay flat on the ground, waiting for the not-too-distant day when it would seal off the mortal remains of Emperor Kajastahn.
 

A few hundred feet farther was a sealed tomb, and here the party stopped. Shallow steps had been cut into the canyon wall, leading to the door. On the face of the panel, above the key-shaped indentation, a single word in the elaborate cursive form of the Mahjundan written language had been painstakingly chiseled.

“Lindia,” Saium barely breathed the name. He crowded his horse against Shalira’s and reached for her hand.

Mike glanced at the old guardsman.
What exactly did the relationship between the emperor's Favorite Wife and her faithful guard involve? Man’s acting pretty broken-up, even all these years later.
Waiting patiently for Shalira to regain her self-control, he let his horse crop at tufts of grass. The princess was speaking to Saium in a low voice, both appearing to be having trouble maintaining their composure.

Acting like a man with a deadline, Vreely wasn't so restrained. He and his troops were already dismounting and fanning out in the narrow canyon. “Your Highness, you must get on with your duty,” Vreely said, gripping her horse’s bridle. “We don’t want to be caught here after dark.”

“Give her a break, man,” Mike said. “She doesn't need your prodding to do her duty.”

Horse pushing his a bit to the side, Shalira reached out in his direction. “I’m reluctant to disturb my mother's sleep, but Captain Vreely is right. Will you help me dismount, please?”

Sliding off the stallion, Mike came to lift Shalira from her saddle, setting her gently on the first stair, holding her a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

“I’ve never seen a tomb opened,” Shalira told him, fidgeting with the oversize key. “I only hope this will work.”

“You’ve been spectacularly successful so far.” Mike tapped one finger on the key. “You got this, right?”

 
Biting her lip, she nodded.
 

“Well, then no reason for things to fall apart now. Let me help you up the stairs—there's a lot of loose gravel.”

Hand in hand with him, she climbed the five stairs, coming to stand in front of the massive slab of black stone. Shalira positioned the key in front of her face and Mike wrapped his fingers around hers to orient it to the door’s indentation. With Mike’s help, she pressed the key into the depression, matching all the curves to the lines of the strange locking mechanism.