As predicted, the hatch covering the safety tunnel was difficult to locate. It’d been thirty-nine sun jumps since it was last used and the constant blowing sand had reburied it. They used the handles of the shovels to puncture the loose sand, listening for a hollow thunk that would mean they’d hit the hatch.

“Found it,” Jaft shouted.

They removed the sand and opened the hatch. Stale air rushed out. Shyla dropped into the hole first, ensuring the tunnel hadn’t collapsed since it wasn’t part of the temple. Strong emotions welled as she shone the druk on the sand walls. The last time she was here, she’d run from the deacons and embraced the sun, knowing full well the heat would kill her.

“It’s clear,” she called.

Soon the others followed her deeper into the temple. They reached the faces of the dead. Carved into the sandstone were the eyeless visages of Tamburah’s victims. Their mouths were open in silent wails of anguish, desperation, and fear. The carvings covered the walls from floor to ceiling.

“Is anyone else creeped out by all these people?” Jaft asked.

“Even though they don’t have eyes, it seems like they’re staring at you,” Rae said with a shudder. “Are they just decoration?”

“No,” Shyla said. “They were real people who King Tamburah judged as not trustworthy. He removed their eyes as punishment. Proud of his handiwork, he had an artist carve their faces into the walls so he could admire them. Banqui called this one of the hallways of the dead.”

“You mean there are more?” Jaft asked.

“Lots more. The temple is filled with them.”

“He makes the Water Prince seem like…well, a prince,” Lian said.

“The Water Prince tortures people by hanging them upside down and cutting into their flesh, including eyeballs, and male genitalia.” Revulsion coated her mouth with bile as the vivid memory of the naked vagrant flashed.

“If given the choice, I’d choose my eyes over my—”

“That’s enough,” Elek said, interrupting Jaft. “I just ate.”

Tamburah’s judgment chamber was located on level five. They covered the druks and slowed as they neared the entrance, their footsteps almost silent. Shyla stretched out her senses, seeking that bump of others. Was an ambush waiting for them? Not one comprised of guards. Deacons were another matter. If they wore torques, Shyla and her friends would have to fight their way free.

Taking a chance, she said, “Uncover the druks.”