[Amanaduial the archer]

The temple rested in the darkness of the night, but inside, all shadows were dispelled. Lamps glowed, candles flickered, torches blazed in their brackets and the sweet, haunting scent of incense pervaded the entire temple. Nothing was spared in Zamara's honouring of the Queen - and he explusion of darkness.

Striding down the centre of the temple, Zamara herself could not help pausing for a moment beside Rhais, the edge of her cloak brushing the face of her goddess. Tugging the cloak to one side, she hesitated, looking down at the female face, peaceful and serene, the face alone the size of Zamara: a face that, as her eyesight faded and the tint of blue became ever more prominent, had faded to her eyes. Leaning down slowly, she knelt beside the Goddess, the grimness of her face softening as she reached out her fingers hesitantly and slowly stroked the side of the stone face with her fingertips, tracing the path of where a tear would have fallen on the face. The features were as she had ever remembered them, no matter how they dimmed: the face of a kindly mother but a strong woman nonetheless.

Bekah's face.

Zamara shuddered slightly as sighed deeply, fighting back tears and closing her eyes as if in prayer. Not one but two queens had fallen this dreadful day... Zamara squeezed her eyes tightly shut, like a child making a wish, then stood, making sure that the folds of the thick, black cloak did not fall on the Goddess's face. Nodding briefly to Tayfar beside her, Zamara strode down the central aisle of the Temple, a picture of determination and strength. The thick cloak of midnight velvet billowed slightly behind her, black an unusual colour in Pashtia, in the temple of all places: a sign of sobriety and mourning, both professional and personal. Zamara's white robes were entirely smothered from sight beneath it, and she wore, for once, no golden jewellery, save the medallion; a black bangle of onyx graced each slim wrist and her makeup consisted only of thick, black kohl starkly outlining the smooth curve of her eyes, giving an impression of them being huge, black and sombre. And it covered the redness of her tears. Almost.

A knock on the closed double doors as she approached it made Tayfar jump like a scared rabbit beside the Priestess, but Zamara managed to restrain her own jumpiness, although she did hesitate. Lifting her chin, she nodded to two of the acolytes, who scurried forward and opened the two doors, swinging them open silently on well-oiled hinges. The two soldiers who stood in the storm were immediately arrested by the sight of the woman in front of them: a statue of dark stone, unmoving and magnificent in the middle of the aisle in front of them. Despite the raging storm outside, the two young soldiers did not hurry in, but stepped in more slowly and reverently, confused by this sight - and as one of them suddenly caught sight of the fallen statue behind Zamara, he gasped inadvertently, his hand coming to his mouth. "Rhais," he whispered, horrified. "She has fallen..."

"The Goddess has not fallen," Zamara spoke suddenly, her voice quiet and steady. "She cannot be contained in a statue." The two men looked towards her and her dark eyes remained fixed on them, flickering from one to the other as she greeted them. "Blessings of Rhais upon you in these dark times, gentlemen. You have come from the palace?"

The older of the two nodded, bowing slightly, and Zamara stepped forward to take his hand lightly, nodding in reply. "I shall come immediately. Are you on horseback or walking?"

The soldier looked slightly uncomfortable. "We...we were riding, High Priestess, because of the storm. We were bidden to send for others also to give the message to..." He shifted, looking away from Zamara's dark gaze. She nodded, unperturbed by the news that they would be unescorted through the city. "Lady Arlome, she will be told?"

"And the Lady Arshalous, High Priestess," he replied, nodding in agreement. "The guard who are here will escort you and your following, do not worry-"

Zamara paused, her brow creasing and her grip inadvertently tightening on the soldier's hand. "The guard who are..." She hesitated, then nodded, massaging her temples were one hand as she continued, "Of course, of course. My apologies: it has been a tiring day and I am much grieved from this...sad news." She faltered a little, then cleared her throat, shrugging away the sign of weakness. Looking up at the soldier once more, she patted his hand lightly, almost informally, and nodded briefly. "We shall come immediately, officer. I thank you." The two soldiers turned to go, hurrying out of the door, but Zamara's last parting words stopped them in their tracks. "Travel safely, gentlemen: the night is dangerous for the loyal of Pashtia."

The two young soldiers looked at her strangely, the words of curiosity as to her meaning perched on their lips, but they restrained them, as they had been taught and, with a last fearful glance at the fallen statue and her cloaked keeper, they hurried away into the darkness. A few seconds later, the sound of hooves could be heard. It was only when this sound had become indistinguishable from the falling rain that Zamara moved, turning suddenly to the main hall of the temple, addressing the foremost of the women nearby, who stepped forward when she spoke to her. "Sedaar, close the doors behind us: do not bolt them, but open only one at a time if need be - large numbers of...people cannot be admitted in at once. When news spreads around the city, the people will come to grieve for the loss of their queen: but there are to be no arms inside the Temple. Do you understand me?" Sedaar nodded, looking slightly stunned. Zamara gave her a tired smile, an expression that had been lost from the Priestess's face since she had heard the news of Bekah's murder. "They are but precautions, Sedaar: people can get jumpy at news like this, and in these times..." She pursed her lips. "I will take no chances."

Turning away once more, Zamara lifted her hood over her head so that her face was shaded and only the curves of the lower half of her face were visible beneath the deep hood, and took her staff from Tayfar. Gripping it tightly, she nodded to Tayfar and stepped towards the still-open temple doors, striding forward briskly. Tayfar scurried beside her, but Zamara noted how the girl tried to stand taller and walk in a more steady fashion, as Zamara herself did. She leant in and spoke furtively to the older woman. "Priestess, there are no guards in the temple-"

"I know."

Tayfar looked anxious. "But you said to those two soldiers that-"

"The soldiers were apparently recalled to the Palace, Tayfar; yet those soldiers have come straight from the Queen's side and knew nothing of those orders. That says something very suspicious, Tayfar: that speaks of more than one set of orders being given. But if the Queen is dead, her children grieving and the King unlikely to be contradicting himself in his own orders," she continued, looking across at the girl. "then who is giving the second set of orders?"

Tayfar looked uncertain, then troubled. Looking up at Zamara, she said quietly, "Then who is to guide us through the storm to the palace?"

Zamara paused at the top of the Temple steps, just out of the rain, her face lit strangely from one side from the bright lights from inside the Temple and the other side entirelt shrouded in shadow, and a word suddenly darted into Tayfar's mind: ethereal. Distant and sacred.

"There is more than one way to the Palace," she replied. "There is a more covered and quicker route which we can take, but whether we should..." Zamara trailed off, frowning to herself, her expression unseen by her young charge. But there was no time for uncertainty: setting her jaw grimly, the clutched her staff resolutely and nodded. "Yes. Yes, we shall take that route. Stay close by me, Tayfar, keep a hold on my cloak so I know you are not going anywhere, and stay as quiet as you can." Zamara nodded again, this time almost to herself, as is striking off a checklist into her mind. Stepping into the wild, frantic rain of the storm, she took one last look back into the Temple, her Temple, the Temple of Rhais, and her eyes met the cold stone ones of the fallen statue.

Rhais, keep us safe. Queen Bekah, I come to you...