Karni

The stone temple steps felt cold and damp to Karni’s bare feet. She could feel the grain of the stone, the pitted and dimpled surface worn away by rain and the elements over time. She held her garment up with one hand to avoid it trailing on the wet stone and getting soiled, and her prayer offerings in the other hand. The light from the torches set at intervals was unnecessary: the moon alone was bright enough to illuminate her way.

This was the oldest temple in the region, said to have been instituted by the great Kr’ush himself, founder of the dynasty. Unlike the newer, more ostentatious temples with their marble pillars and vaulting facades in the richer parts of the city, this ancient shrine was barely visible from the narrow dirt path which was the only way in. Aboveground it looked like nothing noteworthy, just another small ancient shrine, its black stone stippled with age, moss, lichen, and flowers. It sat in a small grove whose trees crowded in so densely, they almost blocked out the city around it. Though within the city precincts, it was surrounded on three sides by thickly wooded or scrubby areas, foraging grounds and preserves which were meant to be filled during times of siege. It was like a little forest within the heart of the city, and once you entered the grove where the shrine reposed, you could almost forget you were the greatest metropolis in the known world.

That was one of the reasons why Karni liked coming here: it felt secluded, remote, private. Especially now, at this late hour, on a day which was neither a day of festivity nor of fasting, there was barely a soul here. Most of the city’s residents performed their rituals at their own local neighborhood shrines, usually dedicated to the more popular deities. The few large temples that attracted greater numbers on festive days were in the more populous areas of the city. A small industry of flower sellers, priests, acolytes, craftsmen, even prostitutes and sellswords, always gathered around any large place of worship, making those areas the most crowded parts of Hastinaga. Over the centuries, this small unimpressive-looking shrine had fallen out of favor with the more fashionable, leaving it without the usual infrastructure most temples enjoyed. Karni brought her own flowers, which she had freshly plucked with her own hands from a field nearby, and was carrying them in a fold of her garment.

She had left her sandals in the chariot. At her request, Adran waited on the dirt track while she walked the several dozen yards to the stone steps. The structure visible aboveground was only the top of the temple; the actual shrine was below ground level, because that was where great Kr’ush had discovered the stone effigy of the deity buried in the ground. Or so the story went.

She reached the first underground level. From here, she could still see the surface, the tops of trees, the large blood moon looming in the sky, and hear the distant sounds of the city. There was something strange about the night: odd sounds and disturbances, packs of dogs barking or fighting for no reason, other animal cries and even screams and shouts. She didn’t pay it too much attention; her attention was directed inward.

That was why she had come here to this favorite shrine: the troubles of the world at large were too overwhelming for her to deal with; it was hard enough dealing with one life’s problems; she couldn’t begin to understand how one dealt with the problems of an entire city-state, a kingdom, an empire. Even as a girl, that part of queenship had never attracted her. As the wife of a future king of Hastinaga, she knew she ought to take more interest in the complex, layered nuances of Krushan politics, but for the life of her she could not bring herself to even feign interest in such matters.

Shvate was not unlike her. A man of action, he was always happier wielding a sword rather than a scepter. Even now, he was away in Hastinaga Forest, hunting with Mayla. They had both asked Karni to accompany them, and on the previous such trip, she had gone along. But she hadn’t been inclined this time and had begged off. Mayla had been more disappointed than Shvate; she had enjoyed their woman-to-woman talks by the campfire during that last hunting trip. Karni had as well, but she enjoyed her time alone even more. She knew they would enjoy their time alone together as well: they’d be hunting and drinking and feasting—and yes, making love—lustily through the night and day, enjoying their time to the fullest.

That was fine with her; she loved Shvate for his physicality, his ability to get to grips with anything without a fuss, just as she loved Mayla’s quick wit and even quicker hand. She missed both her husband and her sister queen while they were away, but also needed time to herself. As she always said to Mayla, only half jokingly, “Better we’re apart for a while and miss one another, than stay together all the time and grow fed up with each other.”

Right now, as she continued to descend the stone steps to the second underground level of the temple, she was content to be alone. The moonlight, the late hour, the solitude of this place, the cool, wet stone underfoot, the ancient shrine, these things were immensely comforting. She had been uneasy in the palace. There were strange sounds from the city, peculiar odors in the air. And there was that awful blood moon hanging low in the sky, as if some gigantic red-eyed demon had opened an eye in space and was looking down malevolently upon Arthaloka with malicious intent. The air had been too still, filled with strange whispers and distant echoes. She had felt so uneasy in the palace, alone without Shvate and Mayla, and it was too late to go to Mother Jilana’s chambers, so she had sent for Adran, apologizing for troubling him at this late hour.

“You need never apologize to me, my princess,” he had said graciously, “I live to serve.”

“Thank you,” she had said. “I wish to go to the temple.”

He had taken up the reins as she got into the chariot. He knew which temple. It was he who had suggested this shrine in the first place, telling her at the time that it was the oldest of its kind in Hastinaga. He drove her without further conversation, and when they arrived, he had only requested that she bring him a little prasadam for his wife and son. Charioteers, like most lower castes, were not permitted entry into most temples, but there was no prohibition against high castes sharing their sacramental sweetmeats with their servants. “With pleasure,” she had said, meaning it.

Karni arrived at the second level of the temple. This was almost fifteen yards belowground. Only the sky above was visible here, glowing with the eerie light of that ungodly moon. For a moment, she thought she heard faint screams from the city and paused to listen. But there was only the sound of water trickling somewhere, and a silence so absolute, she could hear every whisper and tinkle of her own garments and jewelry when she moved. Similar to the upper level, it was a large square hollow carved from solid stone, with a smaller square space carved out for the shrine in the heart of the complex.

She approached the entrance of the shrine, paused to touch the bell above the carved stone doorway, sounding it once. The brass voice sang out, enveloping her with echoes. She loved the way the tone of the bell resonated in her chest; she could feel it in the bone cage that surrounded her heart, could feel it penetrate to her heart itself. It calmed something deep within her soul, brought a sense of tranquility she had been craving all day, perhaps all her life.

She shut her eyes, joined her palms together, and uttered the sacred syllable: “Auma . . .”

The resonance of the bell merged with the sacred word, filling her with such an exquisite sensation of bliss, she smiled involuntarily. She opened her eyes, amused and a little embarrassed at herself for smiling at worship, but it felt so right. She felt peaceful, at ease.

The stone shrine set into the ground had been carved from a single solid block of black rock. Adran had told her that the great Krushan had put his finest craftsmen to work, cutting the stone monolith, carving out doorways, windows, interior spaces. They had done a magnificent job. The shrine itself was small, barely enough inside for two persons to walk around the central square where the sacred fire resided, but it was beautiful in its very simplicity and perfection. Karni experienced a sense of bliss here that she had never found in the largest, most popular temples.

She stepped over the wooden threshold and into the temple. It was dark here, the stone-cut interior dimly lit by little clay lamps set against the walls. There was no wind to disturb the clay lamps here, and the flames stayed steadfast, but the black stone seemed to absorb their light, leaving only just enough for her to make her way forward a few steps at a time. She bowed to Gnash, in his auspicious place on the right after entering, then to the other deities in turn, spending an appropriate amount of time with each one, before finally moving to the rear of the space. She paused to light the clay lamp in her offering plate before moving on.

Another flight of steps cut spirally into the stone led down to the next, lowermost level. She climbed slowly, careful to hold her garment out of the way and her thali close to her body to avoid jostling it against the curving wall as she descended. The stairs seemed to go downward for longer than she remembered, the only light coming from her clay lamp, which, being on top of her offering plate, only illuminated her own face and the wall above her. She had to feel her way by touch, stepping very carefully and slowly. She wondered how tall, largely built persons were able to navigate these stairs. She couldn’t imagine someone like Vrath making his way down them.

She finally felt the flat stone floor of the lowermost level under her bare foot and exhaled the breath she’d been holding. She was not claustrophobic by nature, but there had been an instant when she’d thought the stairs might go down forever, without any end, and the idea had been nightmarish. She paused and turned to glance up, convinced that there had been at least twice as many stairs this time as on her last visit, but the diya’s feeble light only showed the curving wall and a few yards of winding stone steps. The rest merged into the black stone ceiling above her, indistinguishable in the dimness.

She sighed and adjusted her garment to cover her head again: it had slipped down to her shoulders during the descent. Her bangles tinkled softly, sounding very loud in the silence of the temple, echoing in the emptiness. Usually there was a priest or two around, or at least an acolyte, but thus far, she hadn’t seen a soul since she had entered the temple. Perhaps there will be someone at the main deity’s altar, she thought, and continued walking.

The floor and ceiling sloped gradually downward, leading to the main shrine. The stone felt cold to her bare feet, but at least it wasn’t wet, just a little damp. She ducked her head below the overhang before entering the main shrine, then passed through.

She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the much brighter light. The chamber felt larger and seemed better lit than on her previous visits. There were clay lamps on every surface. On the floor, the ledge that ran along the floor, the little nooks where smaller effigies were placed, on the raised stone square around the sacred fire, behind the sacred fire, and on the floor of the alcove inside which the main deity was placed. There must be hundreds of clay lamps in this one chamber, she thought, awed by the spectacle. It was quite beautiful, and inspiring too. She wondered if there was a reason for the lights. Was there a local festival that she had forgotten? Then she recalled the blood moon and wondered if perhaps that had something to do with it.

There was no priest here that she could ask. Not a single priest, not even an acolyte was present. Where had they all gone? It was quite unusual for the sacred fire to be untended, and even the main deity itself to be unwatched.

Whatever the reason, she was here now. The only option she had was to traverse the corridor, climb all the way up the spiral stone staircase, walk up the steps to the surface level and then search for a priest. She had seen nobody there when she began her descent, so returning that way might be all for naught. And it would be rude—even inauspicious—to leave here without praying. Since she had come all this way, she may as well perform her prayer and worship.

The items in her thali had been jostled a little during the long descent. She adjusted them, adjusted her head covering as well, then moved around the shrine, offering prayers to each deity in the correct order.

She reached the carving representing Goddess Jeel and knelt down, putting the steel plate on the floor so she could genuflect. Her forehead touched the stone floor just hard enough that she could feel her skull make contact. The stone felt oddly warm to her skin despite the overall chill of the underground shrine. Perhaps it was because of the clay lamps, she thought. It had felt cold the last time she was here. But now, as she kept her forehead in contact with the floor and recited the sacred syllable, her head began to burn from contact, fever hot.

“Auma . . .”

She forced herself to keep her head on the floor till the last vibrations dissipated from her chest.

“Karni . . .”

She started. Her head rose an inch before striking the floor again. The impact jarred her head, making her eyes water.

She raised her head and looked around. Except for the clay lamps and the deities, there was nothing else there.

She rose to her feet in a single motion, leaving the pooja thali on the floor where she had set it down. She turned around in a complete circle, still remaining in place before the deity. It was a relatively small chamber, only about five yards by five yards, a perfect square. She could see every corner of the chamber, even the nooks in which the deities were placed.

There was no question: she was alone in the shrine.

“Karni . . .”

She gasped, the sound very loud to her ears.

“Who . . . ?” she asked uncertainly. “Who said that?”

The silence grew, looming around her like a living thing. She was suddenly aware that she was deep within the earth, at least twenty or thirty yards underground, maybe more. If the shrine was indeed empty, as it seemed, then there was no one here to call to, to ask for help. The closest person aware of her presence was the charioteer Adran, and he was all the way up there by the gates with his chariot, almost fifty yards from the shrine itself. There was not the slightest chance that he would hear her if she were to call for help, or even if a hundred Karnis were to call for help from down here. She felt the weight of the stone around her, above her, pressing down with its tons of weight, pressing in from all sides, closing in. She was alone underground in a stone cave, and no one to help within hearing distance. She felt the cold, wet stone chill in her bones and shivered. A scream began to grow inside her throat, threatening to burst loose, but instead—

“Enough.” The sound of her own voice in this sacred empty space was unexpectedly loud. “Enough, Karni,” she said. “Get a hold of yourself.”

She was in the shrine of her deity, the most sacred and blessed place in all of Hastinaga.

No harm could come to her here, of all places.

It didn’t matter if she was alone, if there was nobody within earshot or eyesight, if she was fifty or a hundred or a thousand yards underground, if there were a ton of stone above her or a thousand tons. She was in the shrine of her goddess, and nothing could touch her here. How could she even think that she could be harmed? She was safer here than in her own chambers in the palace, safer than anywhere else in all Hastinaga. This was the place she came to when she sought protection, where she had recited the Goddess Kavach, the ritual mantras asking the goddess for a shield of protection. The Goddess Kavach that protected her from all evil, all harm, all adversity. How could she even think that she could be harmed in this of all places, this place where the devi’s power was the strongest, when she stood within the heart of the devi’s sanctum itself. Before the goddess herself!

Karni put her palms together. Her hands were rock steady, her breathing calm and measured.

She turned and bowed her head low, touching it to the base of the alcove, the foot of the devi’s altar. The stone here was warm, the hard stone meeting her forehead and skull gently enough that it may as well have been made of wool, not rock. She said the requisite incantation of greeting, then raised her eyes slowly to the deity herself.

What she saw there stopped her breath, paused her heart, silenced her voice, and stilled her very soul.