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again. The flame from her tiny lantern threw barely enough light for her to see ten paces ahead, but she knew these secret ways well; she had been traveling them for years.
    There were crypts down here, and that was not all. Secret conference rooms hidden within mazes, ancient altars and confessional cubbies … even abandoned prison cells and places of torture. It was in the first level beneath the western ziggurat that she and Master Varn had conducted their clan-destine lessons, hunched together over a single flickering flame as Thia pored over reading scrolls or laboriously worked out the sums the High One set her to ciphering. Varn had warned her sternly against venturing below the first level, but over the years, Thia had explored on her own, becoming braver as she translated the guiding symbols that marked each tunnel.
    Each branching tunnel was marked with secret signs, combinations of letters and numbers. Some were in script so old that no one alive could translate it. But overlaying the ancient runes were modern letters and numbers that provided an infallible guide to one lessoned in its use. Even though she had been this way many times before, Thia was careful to check the symbols. All of the tunnels looked alike, and a mistake could mean a slow and torturous death, wandering these hidden ways without hope of being found and rescued.
    Forty-two, Sun sign, overscribed with the letter kay, she read, scarcely pausing in the swaying light to dart down the leftmost branch of a triad of tunnels.
    She was now far, far below the level of the ziggurat, deep within the foot of the mountain itself. It was so cold that her nipples tightened, and she hugged her arms across her breasts. Her steps came quicker in the chill dankness. This place … she had never traversed this section without the sense that someone was watching. The walls were clammy, the floor sloped down, steadily down.
    Despite her urgency, Thia came to an abrupt halt when the sounds of chanting mixed with the rush of water reached her ears. Oh, no! One of the Hidden Rites! It has to be …
    Her mouth went dry. She had never seen one of the secret ceremonies. She was only a novice, and it was forbidden for her to even stand here and listen to the chanting. And yet …
    her path led through a gallery that ran along the top of the
    huge chamber where the rites were held. There was no other way she could go.
    For a moment she hesitated, half turning to look back up the tunnel. Dare she try it? Or should she go back all that long, weary way to the western ziggurat? If she were caught in the vicinity of a Hidden Rite … She had no idea what would happen to her, and did not even want to think about it.
    On the other hand, the stone parapet lining the gallery passage was low but thick, with small ornamental patterns cut into the stone. If she stayed low and crept along, the High Ones would not see her. And she was over halfway to her destination …
    With a sudden squaring of her shoulders, Thia began to run again, down the tunnel, toward the huge, echoing chamber. The chanting sounds grew louder and were now mixed with other sounds, low and muffled, with an occasional loud shriek or wail rising above the rest of the cacophony.
    Reaching the huge archway that led into the gallery above the enormous chamber, Thia extinguished her light, dropped to her hands and knees, then began inching along, careful to stay below the level of the ornamental pattern cut into the parapet. The stone of the gallery floor was smooth and chill against her hands. Her robe caught her as she tried to creep, until she kilted it up to mid-thigh. Her feet were toughened by constantly going barefoot, but her hands and knees began to ache almost immediately.
    When she reached the first hole in the parapet, she could not resist putting her eye to it and gazing down at the rite that was under way.
    The chamber beneath her had been hollowed out over ages by an underground branch of the River Ver. The