As I fought with all my strength but not my magic, they hauled me up to the single entrance. Two lamps burned brightly within a few feet of us. Iron hinges connected the oversize oak doors to the marble walls. A huge oval door knocker was the only thing on this side. No knob. No keyhole. Not even a peephole.

Odd used the door knocker. A heavy clap reverberated through the oak. After a few moments, Odd knocked again. My skin prickled with the feeling of being watched. I glanced up and spotted a couple guards peering over the edge of the roof of the first tier.

They didn’t say anything, but soon the door creaked open. A priest stood in the threshold. I increased my struggles to break free.

He frowned at the monkeys. “Subdue her.”

Quain pulled both my arms behind my back. Loren backhanded me across the cheek. He faked the amount of force so it was a glancing blow. I pretended to be hit harder, spinning to the side and collapsing to my knees with a cry of pain—just like we had practiced.

When Loren hauled me to my feet, I hung my head. Cradling my cheek with my hand, I acted as if cowed.

“Better,” the priest said. “Who are your traveling companions?”

Loren explained.

The priest nodded. “We’ve heard the good news about the High Priestess’s return. Come inside, Brothers.”

We entered a long hallway. When the door thudded shut behind us, the sound hit me harder than Loren’s blow. My mouth went dry and I swallowed a knot of fear. It took me a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim candlelight. The priest led us to another set of doors. These had thick iron bars and two guards on the other side waiting.

“They are servants of the creator,” the priest said to the guards.

I wondered if it was a password. The guards unlocked the doors and we passed through the first of many such barriers. Narrow corridors cut between them. It reminded me of a maze. After each well-guarded double door made of bars or steel or thick wood, we turned left or right. Other plain doors marked the walls, but we didn’t stop. We crossed six such barriers. Odd barely concealed his panic.

After the seventh set, we stopped at a chamber where two priestesses worked behind massive desks piled with folders. An open door on the other side revealed a dark corridor.

“Another penitent for you to process, Sisters,” the priest said.

The woman on the left rose and disappeared down the hallway. The other continued with her work.

“There is no escape,” the priest said to me. “You are here to beg for forgiveness from the creator. Behave or suffer the consequences. There is no forgiveness from us. Only the creator can grant that.”