Nua did not ask what it was. Flavius was once again speaking at her, not to her. She imagined that the nobles were used to having an audience, servants, slaves and if they were important enough, other nobles at their every whim. After all, palaces were chock full of people. So he was like that and he had a plot in mind. She wouldn’t care less. Once again, she asked herself if she’s going to get out of here alive.
As common sense told her, powerful people did not like leaving witnesses to their plots.
Right now they were strolling along the temple hall, footsteps echoing in the vastness of space. Flavius had his eyes locked not on the statue, but at some point behind it. Nua remembered her vision and the winged beautiful lady, who – as she recalled now – had approached from this area. The statue’s pedestal, tall enough on its own, obstructed the view.
It got even larger when they got closer, Nua suddenly aware that she misjudged the distance and the pedestal’s height because of the warrior god’s size. They passed by the pedestal and the statue’s huge, sandal-clad foot. She had the strangest urge to stand on her toetips and try to reach it, but she fought it. Better not to disturb the ghosts. For a while, she just marveled at the figure’s details, as the sculptor, or sculptors took care even of the fine lines that imitated toeprints.
Behind the pedestal, there was a small, square table to the left side, made of the same black, glassy stone she had already seen. It was not an altar; altars were used in the ceremonies, so it had no sense that it would be hidden in the back. It had a drawer, a wash basin, and a small golden chalice in the back, embedded in the stone. Other golden tools still lay on the table in disarray – several simple knives of different sizes, a mortar, and a miniature sickle. Nua did not know if priests had workbenches like Auntie Hala did, but it sure looked like that.
“Don’t touch these”, Flavius warned. “They used ether to fool the worshippers. It might still linger. We only need that”, he pointed at the chalice. Then he produced another of his pouches. Nua watched as he emptied it into the cup. This time the substance looked like ash.
“What’s this?”, she asked before she had time to think.
“Mummy powder. The ground remains of an Unsagga high priest. Hard to come by, that one.”
Nua instantly regretted her question. Flavius wasn’t finished, though. This time he took out a metal box. Inside, wrapped in a woolen cushion, there was a vial full of translucent, lazurite blue liquid. He took it out, opened it far from his face, then carefully measured a single drop into the chalice. It hissed, then vanished. With the utmost care, the explorer locked and hid the vial.
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“Living ether”, he added.
Then, before Nua had any chance to react, he caught her hand, pulled it above the chalice and cut her fingertip with a knife. She grimaced at the sudden pain, while the explorer squeezed a few drops of blood into the mixture.
“That should do it.”
“Why?” Nua backed, tears welling up again. He said he needed her blood. He could have at least warned her when it was coming.
“Because I needed to cheat the workings into thinking they were fed with blood of a live high priest with Awakened ether, of course. Would you really like to visit all the underground levels, deal with their ghosts and whatever cursed thing lives down there? It’s not like I got here to rob their wine cellars. Let’s cut to the chase and use a shortcut.”
This was not by the least the answer Nua wanted to hear, though by this time she should have known better. The explorer took what he needed and didn’t think twice. She had never hated anyone so much as Flavius at this moment.
Then a loud, rumbling sound distracted her. To her amazement, the pedestal opened, stone door sliding sideways. An entrance was gaping at them, no taller than herself and pitch black.
“What are you waiting for?”, Flavius waved at her. “Guide”.
She approached with dread. At some point when the explorer battled the ghosts she had lost her torch, but he handed her another one, not without annoyance. Knowing better than to charge point blank into the darkness, she shone some light on the situation.
She almost stumbled and fell all the way down.
There were no stairs. The weak light revealed a bottomless pit. Did all the high priests have wings, like the lady from the vision? She couldn’t be able to spread them though. If this was a shortcut, then somehow, they had to travel up and down.
“There are no stairs” she voiced aloud.
Flavius uttered a profanity. Then took out a bundle of rope and a bunch of metal rings.
“Well then, climb down.”
She stared at it.
“What if it’s too short?”
“Gods have mercy. Wrap it around the stone table’s leg – it’s fixed in place. Get down on a line folded twice. Whenever you are close to the end of the line, tug at it. I’ll come after you, pull down the rope and repeat the procedure. If there is nowhere to stand and nothing to fix it at, I have gear. If you fall or are attacked, scream.”
“That I can do.”
“Check first how deep it goes.”
Nua blinked.
“Oh, for… you can waste a torch and toss it down. It will also tell us if any explosive gasses have accumulated. Useful knowledge, that.”
In her mind, Nua had to agree. Boorish and a bully as he was, at least Flavius knew what he was doing. There was still a chance she might live if he does not kill her, provided she does her incidental guiding job well and does not get eaten by monsters or entranced by ghosts. That was a lot of “ifs”. Then, Bottoms were often the same. You did what you had to and hoped for the best.
All thoughts of the future set aside, she prepared to descend.