He slipped off the cart with Silvie and Jackov and waited for the driver to pull away. Dusk had driven the majority of pedestrians from the hard-packed streets, but those who did remain glanced at them with questioning eyes.

“We have to get off the streets,” Johnis said, eyeing the large temple doors. He’d been so distracted by the strange sights that he hadn’t noticed how deep into the city they’d come. Besides the temple marked by the serpent, one other structure spread out, three times the size of any other.

This had to be the palace. Unlike the temple, its roof didn’t rise in one large steeple but in a dozen smaller ones, like a tent on many poles. Large triangles that resembled spearheads had been dyed red and purple on the palace canvas.

The red mortar house that Karas claimed was hers sat to the right, next to a stable that presumably held the palace horses. The Dark Priest lives in that house, Johnis thought.

“This way,” Jackov said, hurrying toward the temple doors.

“Hold up!” Silvie whispered harshly.

“Follow me.” Jackov rushed down a broad path that led directly up wide steps and into the temple’s wide brass doors.

“Jackov! Jackov, stop!” Silvie started after him, but stopped and spun to Johnis. “What’s he thinking? We can’t just walk inside!”

“No? Then what? It might be better to slip inside, see what we find, and then slip out before anyone but Karas even knows we’re here.”

“Sly like a snake,” she reminded him yet again. “Not like a bulldog.”

“And snakes are quick.”

“Yes, well, so is that one.” Silvie eyed the winged serpent with ruby eyes, drilling them with its red stare.

“Then let’s get in and out before they lock the doors.” Johnis hurried after Jackov, who was now motioning them from the door. “Think about having to find a way past the locks at night. We’d be noticed for sure.”

“Not if it’s done right.” Silvie matched his stride, and together they rushed up the steps and past the door through which Jackov disappeared.

THE TEMPLE WAS DIMLY LIT BY A SKYLIGHT AND TWO LARGE flaming torches. The torches sat on either side of a huge, brass, winged serpent on one end of the room, identical to the one on the roof but larger. Smaller versions were mounted on the walls every ten feet. The serpents’ ruby eyes glowed red in the wavering flames. Cooler here. Smelled of the morst paste Scabs used to cover their cracking skin, a musky floral scent.

Jackov stood in the middle of a large circular rug dyed purple, fixated on the large serpent. No one else was in the room. This has to be the main worship hall, Johnis thought, barely daring to breathe.