I pushed open the doors and went in, and they swung closed behind me, silently. The room was not large, but it was extremely high. I was glad I had my torch. There was no light here except a pale grey dome in the roof. Immediately in front of me, glimmering in the torch flames, was a golden altar. It was not large – about as high as my waist – and had nothing on it except an iron brazier for fire, black and unlit, and the words inscribed on the altar’s edge: For the Chosen of God. They were written in the high language. The brazier was filled with fresh firestones sprinkled with kindling grass.

Beyond the altar hung a huge black curtain, high almost as a two-storied tower, its top lost in the shadowy heights. It hung across the entire width of the room, its folds ghostly in the torchlight, glimmering with dust and ice. I went behind the curtain and saw the second altar. It was stone, and inscribed with the words: For the Quelled. Its brazier, too, was waiting for fire.

I placed my torch across the stone altar and stood for a while in the darkness, listening to the silence. There was a wondrous peace in this place. A living peace. I remembered that I stood in the most holy place, and knelt and touched the polished floor. Then I stood and picked up the brazier. It was heavier than I expected, and still warm from yesterday’s fire. I carried it around the curtain and placed it on the golden altar beside the brazier of the Chosen. Then I took the great curtain in my hands. I started to sing a Quelled myth, as my lord had asked me to, but I was too choked with emotion and dust. I dragged on the curtain, heard it tear, and clouds of dust fell out of it It was so ancient, I was afraid it would rip to shreds in my hands, and that only the hem would come down. I gathered it in my arms, swung on it with all my weight, and heard it ripping free of the high hooks that held it. It fell in massive folds behind the golden altar: a pile of ancient weaving, fragments of rotten cloth, and the dirt and prejudice of centuries.

I walked over it, picked up the torch, and lit the two fires on the altar – the Quelled fire first. I did sing the Quelled myth-song then, haltingly, overcome with feelings, and wishing with all my heart that my high lord was with me. Perhaps he was.