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would have taken
them far too long to reach the Lady's Temple, she was sure. The
threat of the Black Lord was constant, even though, for the moment,
he had settled in the Old Kingdom. When he chose to move, it would
be at his own demon steed's lightning pace, or worse, he would use
his power and Move, as Bane could not. Their swift travel brought
them to their destination before the Black Lord could deduce what
they were up to, otherwise he would have overtaken them before they
reached the temple, Mirra was certain.
    As they entered the grounds,
Orriss balked, digging in its heels and propping to a halt, its
hoof prints smoking. Bane helped Mirra down, then slid off.
    "It can go no further. This is
hallowed ground," he explained, pulling off the heavy pack and
dumping it on the ground.
    The demon steed tossed its head and
cantered away, leaving them to finish the journey on foot. Bane
picked up the bag that contained his potions and spare clothes,
leaving the tent and furniture. Beneath the racing black clouds,
the Goddess' Temple gleamed pale grey in its garden of flowering
trees and shrubs. No ash fell here, and the lush countryside was
unspoilt, although it did not benefit from the sun's warm
light.
    A vivid meadow surrounded the
temple, and tall forests crept up the low hills beyond it. After
that the land became untamed. Belts of woodland ran through
flower-spotted meadows where sheep and cattle grazed. The temple
was far larger than any abbey Mirra had ever seen. A slender bell
tower rose above the sweeping, pointed archway that framed the main
doors whose golden wood was studded and banded with polished brass.
The bell tower's domed silver roof gleamed in the dull light, and
beneath it, white granite edged the steeply slanted grey slate
roof. The tall, stained-glass windows, rimmed with white granite,
bore images of the Lady in her various poses. Above the main doors,
a circular window featured her most popular likeness, her hands
spread and her eyes downcast as she blessed the multitudes.
    At the rear of the chapel,
corridors led to the abbey's dormitories, which bordered the inner
courtyard with its garden, fountains and shady paving, where the
healers relaxed and meditated. Two fountains bordered the path that
led the abbey's doors, and a pair of spreading mage trees shaded
it. The trees' pale, gnarled branches wept sweeping streamers of
white flowers and slender grey-green leaves. Hedges of moon fire
bushes swept out on either side of the entrance, the silvery
blossoms shimmering against a backdrop of almost black leaves. In
front of it, beds of white, orchid-like snow blossoms flourished
beside cloud shrubs whose filigree white leaves gave off a delicate
mint scent.
    Mirra and Bane walked along the
narrow dirt road that led to the temple's forecourt, where young
acolytes worked in the gardens, hoeing and pruning, their girlish
laughter carrying on the crisp air. As the pair drew closer, a girl
looked up and gazed in their direction. Mirra waved, but the girl's
eyes were fixed on the Demon Lord. She yelled and ran, making the
others look up in alarm, then join her in a white-robed stampede
into the temple. Clearly they had been warned of his coming, and
knew who he was.
    Mirra glanced at Bane, trying to
see him as they did, for she was used to him now. He towered beside
her, his ankle-length black cloak, which hung from his broad
shoulders, showing flashes of crimson satin lining as he walked.
His eyes were no longer bloodshot, and his too-red lips were the
only outward sign of his illness, but she thought that he cut a
demonic, god-like figure, despite his youth.
    He glanced at her. "Do I look
like a monster, or is it just my reputation?"
    Mirra giggled, relieved that he
could quip about his effect on the girls. "They are just young and
easily scared. You look forbidding, but not monstrous."
    He seemed unconcerned. "I
suppose they have reason to fear me."
    "You must put that all behind
you. Do not torment yourself