Hsu Shen settled beside him. “We go in between the forepaws. There’s a stairway to its back. Up near the shoulder there’s a plug that lifts out. I’m not sure what we’ll find inside. I couldn’t probe that closely.”

Shih-ka’i nodded. “I want complete silence when we go in. I don’t expect it sees or hears in mortal fashion, but why take risks?” He stared at the dark bulk. “I wish we knew more about it.”

The last men arrived. Hsu Shen spread them in a skirmish line. Shih-ka’i wondered why he wanted so much help. Numbers meant nothing tonight.

“Let’s go.” Butterflies mated in Shih-ka’i’s gut as he stalked forward. What am I doing here? I’m an army commander. I’m supposed to have people do these things for me.

Lord Kuo remained close, spells of his own prepared. Pan ku carried his longsword at the ready.

Shih-ka’i laughed at himself. Arrogant, puny mortal, attacking what might be a god. Such gall!

There was no moon yet. The desert was illuminated only by stars. They seemed more numerous here than in the skies of Shinsan. The darkness seemed more intense.

Shih-ka’i moved into the deeper darkness between the thing’s forelegs, carefully picking his way through the rubble. He paused, knelt. Water. Here and there, plants clung desperately to life. Curious.

He had trouble finding the stair. Its base was masked by rubble. Seconds fled. His heart hammered faster and faster. The thing had to know he was here. It must be waiting to trap him… Still, he sensed nothing but sleeping anger.

He began the climb. Pan ku and Lord Kuo were right behind him. From behind them, Hsu Shen whispered, “Lord, must these men—”

“Silence!” Shih-ka’i hissed. He listened. The thing had not stirred. “They go.” He resumed climbing.

From the beast’s back he could just make out the men below. Again he wondered what point there was to their presence. To comfort their commander?

Hsu Shen eased past him, felt the stone of the thing’s battered shoulder. He lifted the plug out. Shih-ka’i felt the godling grow restless. He shook an admonitory finger at his companions.

Pan ku and Wen-chin bore lanterns. These they now lighted. Shih-ka’i took one and started down into the stone thing’s heart. It stirred again, but did not waken.

There was one chamber down deep inside, perhaps fifteen feet by ten. At one end stood a stone altar. Upon it rested a small black box.

Once that chamber had been richly appointed. All that remained was dust and scraps, a few ceremonial weapons, and the altar itself. Shih-ka’i advanced carefully, stood over the altar, stared at the box. He returned the lantern to Pan ku.

Still no more than a restlessness in the box. Shih-ka’i reached for it. His hands quivered.

Hsu Shen sneezed. And sneezed again.

The thing in the box stirred.

Shih-ka’i lifted gently and turned, glided toward the stair.

Pan ku sneezed, cursed softly. Shih-ka’i grimaced behind his mask. Carefully, carefully, he climbed the steps.