Silent as a winter hare, Fyn scurried after them down the stairs. It grew steadily colder. Strange, he had expected it to be hot in the very heart of Mount Halcyon. After all, the goddess's blessing was heat.
He shivered and turned a bend, then stopped.
A glow came through a tall doorway with smooth stone lintels. The pool of light seemed glaringly bright to Fyn's dark-adjusted eyes. He crept closer, listening intently. He could tell by the echo of the monks' steps that they were walking across a cavern. As yet no one had spoken.
Pressing his cheek to the cold stone, Fyn peered around the entrance. His breath caught in his throat.
Halcyon's Sacred Heart opened before him, a great cavern filled with the glow of many candles… more were lit every moment as the masters performed their task. Each candle sat on the cupped hands of a long-dead master. Each mummified master knelt on a flat-topped stone, his face serene. They seemed to be scattered at random across the floor. Then Fyn noticed that above every master there was a finger of glistening stone extending down from the cavern ceiling.
The masters' skins glistened like glazed pottery. Stone had dripped down from above, encasing the long-dead monks in columns of stone. So this was what meant by the words embraced by the goddess.
Abbot Halcyon and the masters had gathered around a flat-topped column, which stood beneath a glistening spike of rock. When the abbot stepped away Fyn recognised Master Wintertide. Bound in fine cloth, Wintertide's body had been placed in the kneeling position, hands folded left on right, palms up in his lap. A newly lit candle flickered in his upturned hands. Fyn searched for and found the sacred jars with his master's internal organs ranged in front of his knees. All he had to do was wait out the ceremony, take the heart jar and return to Master Catillum's private chamber.
'Who brings this worthy master to join the goddess?' a woman asked, her voice echoing across the cavern.
Fyn blinked. For a heartbeat he believed it was the goddess Halcyon herself. Then the woman turned and he recognised the abbess of Sylion.
He bit back a gasp of surprise, for females were not allowed past the courtyard of the sacred pool, yet here she was. How had the abbess slipped into Halcyon's Sacred Heart unseen? There must be another way into the cavern, a passage just as secret as the one the abbot had used. It appeared Sylion and Halcyon had a much closer bond than he had been taught.
Fyn wrestled with this while the abbot and masters chanted Halcyon's psalm of praise and the abbess gave Sylion's formal responses.
Once the ceremony was over, the abbot spoke briefly with the abbess and headed towards Fyn, who stumbled backwards. He found a niche and stood pressed against the stone, hardly daring to breathe.
One by one the masters passed him. This time Master Catillum did not look for him. The abbess did not come this way.
'So, abbot, have you considered our list of possible boys masters?' Hotpool asked, his voice carrying back to Fyn. 'It will have to be someone well versed in the history of our order. The boys must respect the past.'
The abbot sighed. 'Tonight, Master Hotpool. You'll know tonight.'
As soon as their footsteps faded, Fyn resumed his place near the cavern entrance. He waited, listening to the soft tone of the female voices on the cold air as the abbess discussed something with a companion. Their voices faded, then he heard the grate of stone as a passage closed.
Believing the cavern deserted, Fyn stepped into Halcyon's Heart. His nostrils stung in reaction to intense Affinity. The intermittent seep below Mount Halcyon must be releasing power again. Not surprising, since other seeps had risen recently. The masters would have to bring down sorbt stones to absorb the Affinity.
As it was, he had to blink tears from his eyes. Since he meant no harm, he trusted the goddess would not hurt him. Still, his blood roared in his ears as he crossed to Master Wintertide's resting place.
Kneeling reverently, he looked up into his old teacher's face. Wintertide's pale skin had been painted with a clear glaze so that it resembled the finest porcelain. His expression was calm.
'I will miss you, Master Wintertide, more than I can say,' Fyn whispered and bent forwards, bowing from the waist, pressing his forehead to his hands on the floor. His royal emblem rode up, sliding out of the front of his robe to dangle in front of his eyes.
He straightened up, fingering it, feeling the familiar pattern of the embossed foenix. The metal was warm from his skin. The day he put this aside was the day he put aside his claim to his father's throne. He had thought he would be putting it aside to take up his place in the abbey, but now he knew that, after he did this last service for his old master, he would be without allegiance. The emblem must not fall into the wrong hands.
'Master Wintertide, I ask you to watch over this, as you watched over me in the abbey.' Fyn stood and undid the royal emblem's chain. It felt heavy in the palm of his hand. In the candlelight the foenix gleamed. He placed the pendant in the hollow behind his master's hands. The wax would burn down, hiding it. One day, many years in the future, Halcyon's stone would encase it.
'I promise you this, Master Wintertide, I will not rest until your killer has been punished.' He studied the four jars, comparing each one to Master Catillum's sketch. His hand moved even before he consciously recognised the jar that contained Master Wintertide's heart. 'Forgive me, master. This will be returned as soon as possible.'
He tucked the jar inside his belt pouch. All he had to do was take it to Master Catillum.
Feeling lighter, Fyn left the cavern. It was completely dark in the secret passage. He should have taken one of the candles but he recalled the way, counting the steps and making the turns until he came to a dead end, the sealed exit. No light seeped around the hidden door. Fyn's blind fingers brushed the stone wall, seeking the device which Master Catillum had told him would trip the opening.
Twice he searched where it should have been and found nothing.
What if he could not find it?
His mouth went dry with fear. Panic threatened. If he did not find the trigger to open the panel he would starve alone in the dark. The great weight of the mountain pressed down on him, making it hard to breathe.
He struggled to clear his mind.
Think. There had to be a way out.
Then it came to him… If he could not open this door he would return to Halcyon's Heart and try to find the passage the Abbess had used — it had to come out somewhere on Mount Halcyon — then he would double back to the abbey.
Having thought it through, Fyn calmed down and widened his search. As his fingers dipped into a depression in the stone, he realised the mystics master was taller than him. Catillum hadn't taken this into account when describing where to find the catch. The device sank at his touch and the panel slid open.
Blinking in the dim light and relieved beyond words, Fyn stepped into the hall.
Now, to take the jar to Master Catillum. He hurried up the steps, pressing the jar to his chest so it would not be jolted.
As Fyn rounded the corner, relieved he had got away with it, a large hand descended on his shoulder, squeezing painfully.
'What do we have here, Beartooth, a little mouse stealing about in the dark?'
'And what has it been stealing?' Galestorm asked.
Fyn tried to pull away from Beartooth.
'Grab him, Onetree,' Galestorm ordered.
Arms pinned him. Fingers prised at his, forcing them away from the jar. Fyn stopped fighting, fearful the jar would fall and shatter.
Whisperingpine whistled. 'That looks like — '
'A jar from Halcyon's Sacred Heart.' Galestorm's eyes narrowed, then he smiled with malicious glee. 'Fyn Kingson, you have just signed your own death decree!'