The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [110]
Durge raised his eyebrows at this. “I believe I should like to see this university, as you call it.”
“Oh, you will,” Falken said with a wink. “But first—”
“My brothers, my sisters,” said a soft voice, “is this truly to be our home? It is so much more beautiful than I could ever have imagined.”
Melia swayed back and forth, her arms folded about herself, a beatific smile upon her lips.
Aryn saw Falken and Lirith exchange looks. It was like the incident Lirith had described, when she found Melia dancing in the shrine of Mandu. Melia had not had another such spell on their journey, although there had been peculiar moments. Melia seemed to speak of the past a great deal, and her visage would grow dreamy when she did. However, Aryn had simply assumed it was because they were traveling to Melia’s home. Now, it seemed as if Melia was not even there.
No, that’s not it, Aryn. It’s as if we’re the ones who aren’t here, as if Melia really is seeing Tarras as it was long ago, when she first came to this place.
Gently, Falken touched Melia’s shoulder.
“Dear one,” he whispered.
For a heartbeat Melia went stiff, then she turned and glared at the others. “Well, don’t just stand there and gawk. We’re going this way.”
With that, Melia led the way down a side lane paved with white stone. There was nothing for the others to do save follow.
As they went, Aryn noticed one dome that rose above all others in the Second Circle, and which rivaled the dome of the emperor’s palace that loomed above them in the First. This dome was not gold, like so many in the city, but was rather painted blue so that it seemed to merge with the sky. Aryn wondered which god was honored by this temple, which was so much grander than the others. However, it was not toward this dome that they walked.
When they stopped, it was before a temple that, while lovely, was far smaller and plainer than those around it. Its columns and cornices were unadorned, and it was without windows. A narrow door was the only opening.
Melia regarded the others, her amber eyes now sharp and clear. “It is best that you empty your minds of petty thoughts and wants before you enter here. There is no room for fear, anger, or desire in the realm of Mandu. It is because he seeks nothing that he is ever dying. And it is because he seeks nothing that he is ever reborn.”
“Perhaps he should seek to build a few more windows in order to save on candles,” Durge muttered, but a glare from Melia caused the knight to clamp his mouth shut. Aryn had to resist the urge to hug the practical knight. Instead, they followed Melia through the door and into the temple beyond.
37.
Evidently Mandu the Everdying was little more popular in Tarras than in the Dominions. The main space of the temple bore only a handful of worshipers. There was not much furniture—a few wooden benches where one might kneel in prayer, a bare marble altar, and, in the dim nave of the temple, carved of milky stone, a likeness of the god as tall as two men, gazing forward with serene, empty eyes.
A priest rushed toward them, tugging at his ill-fitting white robe to keep it from falling off his skinny shoulders. He was a young man, with a homely but cheerful face and a large, crooked nose.
“Your Holiness, Melindora! So the vision Mandu sent my master was true—you have come.”
Melia glided forward. “Tell me, acolyte, do you make it a habit of doubting the power of Mandu and the wisdom of your master?”
The young man’s eyes bulged. “Never, Your Holiness! Of course Mandu is all-powerful and my master is most wise. I only meant to say—”
“—that you are going to bring wine for your weary guests who have traveled far, then lead them to see Orsith at once,” Melia finished for him.
The young priest gaped at her.
“Wine,” Melia prompted with a pleasant smile. “Then Orsith.”
Aryn forced herself not to laugh; the young man was clearly