Unless they knew something unique about the chamber, as Pilos did.
When he had first been raised to the level of Abreeant and awarded, for his pious service in the temple, the position of servitude to the Grand Syndar himself, Pilos discovered a few secrets-or rather, he was taught those secrets by the Grand Syndar himself-about the architecture of the temple. One such secret was the numerous concealed passages that threaded their way through the temple structure, passing through the thickest of the walls and following narrow and steep staircases to different levels. The Grand Syndar seldom used those covert passageways, but they were there in cases of dire need. As Mikolo explained it at the time, one never knew when the Grand Syndar might need to move from one locale within the temple to another "unmolested," as the old man had put it.
Pilos had never been able to imagine what use the Grand Syndar might have had for such secretive modes of travel, but he did not question their existence, nor did he ever reveal to anyone else that he was aware of them. Right then, he was feeling more than a little gratified that the Grand Syndar had seen fit to share their presence with him.
Moving to the back of the closet, Pilos stared at the shelving attached to the wall for a few moments, trying to recall exactly how the Grand Syndar had made them function. He remembered something about a loose stone, but he could not recall exactly which one might be suitable. He shrugged and began to feel with his hands each of the stones that made up the wall. After the fourth or fifth one, he began to grow frustrated.
Perhaps it wasn't a stone at all, he thought, pondering.
Then the young priest remembered. There had been a loose stone at chest height, but it was on the other side of the wall. From the closet side, the trigger mechanism was actually one of the shelves. In fact, Pilos remembered, it was the bottommost shelf. He reached down and felt with his fingers along the bottom of the lowest one. When they brushed across a small stud, he pressed it in and tugged. The entire shelf shifted, and there was a deep click from inside the stone wall. Very carefully, Pilos stood and pushed against the wall, watching with satisfaction when it swung backward, revealing the narrow passageway beyond.
Quickly, before he could lose his nerve, Pilos scurried through the opening and pushed the swinging section of wall back again, until he heard it click shut. Sighing, he wondered if he would be able to figure out how to open it again, but he did not stop to determine which stone was the correct one right then. Instead he turned and began to follow the passage, guided by his glowing coin.
After a short walk down a dusty and cobweb-filled corridor, the passage split into a four-way intersection, and Pilos considered for a brief moment the correct route. When he'd made up his mind, he turned to the right, went down some steep stairs, and turned left at another intersection. He continued to follow that passage for quite some time, passing a couple of different points where he knew other doors were camouflaged in the stonework. Finally, Pilos turned a last corner and found himself in a dead end.
Bolstering his courage, he moved right to the very end of the hallway and stepped on a smallish projection rising up from the floor in one corner. The resulting click was barely audible, but Pilos held his breath anyway, ready to bolt if there was any indication that someone on the far side of the secret portal had heard it open. The distinct sound of voices began to issue through the slender crack that had formed, but they did not change in pitch or volume. When he was at last satisfied that no one had detected his presence, Pilos pulled the door slightly more ajar, peeking through the crack that widened. The door opened into a small alcove in Mikolo Midelli's study where an elegant statue of Waukeen rested.
It was clear to the young man that several people had gathered in the Grand Syndar's study and that they were most likely clustered around Mikolo's desk. Pilos could recognize almost every voice there, realizing that many of the high priests of the temple had congregated in the chamber and were engaged in a heated debate. Their words stung Pilos as sure as if they had slapped him physically.
"And I say that the Grand Syndar has not yet gone on to meet with the Merchant's Friend, and you are blasphemous for even discussing a successor, yet." That was the voice of Grand Trabbar Perolin, usually a soft-spoken priest who was kind to everyone. He was one of Pilos's favorites.
"Surely you are not so naive as to believe his recovery is possible?" asked another, Grand Trabbar Huleea, a diminutive, scowling woman who always seemed to glare at lesser priests unless they appeared busy or in prayer. "You've been a part of the healing circle; you can sense as well as any of us here that Mikolo Midelli is not long for this world."
Pilos nearly gasped out loud at that revelation, understanding for the first time the true cost of his eavesdropping. He had the knowledge he had feared to possess, that the Grand Syndar was dying. He could no longer pretend there was hope.
"Nonetheless," Perolin countered, "I find it noisome to discuss the Grand Syndar in such terms before he sheds his mortal coil and advances to the shores of Brightwater of his own volition. He does not need us driving him there prematurely."
"It is not a lack of concern for the Grand Syndar's condition that brings us to discuss these matters," a third voice said, the smooth, repulsively persuasive utterances of Grand Trabbar Lavant. "Rather, it is a due responsibility for the temple, indeed the faithful among all of Arrabar, that leads us down the path before we would perhaps be comfortable exploring it.
"The simple fact is, our blessed leader and guide has come to the end of his stay here on Abeir-Toril and will soon leave us. If we are not prepared for a seamless transition when that eventuality is upon us, do we not do more harm than good to all of the works he strove for in his long and illustrious career at the helm? Do we not shame ourselves in the eyes of so many if, when we find ourselves leaderless, we cannot act with assertiveness and confidence? That is what separates those of us from the flock that follows us, a sure and indomitable spirit of conviction that we move in the right direction every moment, every day."
"And I suppose you believe that you are best suited to lead us forward down that treacherous path?" Grand Trabbar Perolin said, his tone making it clear that he did not favor the suggestion in the least.
"If that is the will of the council, I would humbly accept the appointment," Lavant responded, his tone thickly obsequious.
"You know good and well that the council is filled with your lackeys and confidants, and that, when it comes time for a vote, your name will head the list!" Huleea spat. "Everyone in this room knows your game, Lavant. Do not think us the blindly pious fools Mikolo was. Your position as Grand Syndar is not secured, yet!"
More voices rose up in argument, but Pilos did not hear them clearly, nor did he particularly care. He had already gently pulled the secret door shut again and had turned and fled back along the narrow tunnel in the wall. He was surprised at the number of tears welling up in his eyes, though not the ache in his chest that was causing them.
For a moment, time seemed frozen to Emriana as she watched a crackling arc of roaring flame come rushing toward her head. Then the girl was falling, having let go of her perch between the walls of the two buildings where she had been climbing. Rough stone scraped at her knees and shoulders as she slid awkwardly down toward the ground, turning her head to avoid the worst of the heat from the fiery blast above.
Emriana's diminutive stature probably had as much to do with her successful escape as any quick reactions on her part. A larger person would undoubtedly have become wedged between the two walls, stuck in the narrow gap and helpless to evade the scorching blast. But the slender girl dropped easily, barely escaping the worst of the withering heat, though her hair was singed sufficiently that the odor of it filled her nostrils. She hit the bottom of the gap and tumbled out, away from the flames, sprawling, half blind from the flash of brightness, into the narrow alley leading back toward The Silver Fish. She landed with a rather soggy splat in the midst of something moist and foul smelling.