Page 69 of The King of Koraha
“It’s something in the stone that transforms the sunlight.” She swept her arm up. “This entire cavern is man-made. Those pillars were discovered when Apanji’s ancestors started building their underground city. They cleared all the sand, dirt, and rocks away, exposing the pink stone until it ended sixty-six levels down.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t stop when they hit water.”
Her attention focused on the waterfall. The massive gush of water poured out from the side of the shaft at around level fifty-seven and fell nine levels down into a huge pool at the bottom of the shaft. The water roared and white froth bubbled in the pool. It looked like a sandstorm raged in the air above, except instead of grains of sand, it was tiny droplets of water misting the area. The heavy moisture smelled rich with minerals.
“The sky pillars are producing natural light. They were smart to expose the entire length to take advantage of that.” Shyla decided she could easily live in Apanji. It was a beautiful city and her favorite so far. Soaking in the happy murmurs of the citizens, she filled her lungs with the lush air. Once they finished helping the King, she looked forward to visiting the other wonders of Koraha. Excited, she entwined her fingers in Rendor’s and squeezed. He grinned at her.
They returned to their rooms so Rendor could demonstrate what she’d be missing while she was at the monastery.
“Thatshould give you plenty of incentive to return,” he said smugly, nuzzling her neck as she gasped for breath.
“Return? Scorching hells, afterthatI’m never leaving this cushion.”
“I’ve no objections.” His level of smugness increased.
Unfortunately, duty called. Shyla dressed as a Monk of Parzival in a tan-colored tunic and pants, wrapping her turban in their signature style. Then she shouldered her pack and headed for the surface.
Shyla reached topside just as the sun touched the horizon. Sand swirled in the cooling air as the sky changed color, darkening to a deep red. Hiding near the surface buildings, she waited for a caravan to arrive. If none appeared, she’d have to retreat to her rooms and try again the next sun jump. Which she wouldn’t mind doing. At all. Her blood still crackled from Rendor’s goodbye.
A large caravan finally pulled in when only a thin crescent of the sun remained in the sky. The gamelus were panting from the effort to reach the city before full darkness. Their yellow fur was matted with sweat. The owner must have miscalculated the timing or they were waylaid by bandits.
Amid the flurry of activity, Shyla wove through the wagons as if she belonged, then headed toward the monastery at a fast clip. She’d sensed the Monks of Lyons hiding in the sands, watching the city. And now their focus should be on her, a monk on pilgrimage who’d just arrived with the caravan.
As the light faded, Shyla considered removing the druk from her pack. She had a vague idea of where the monastery was located, and most monks would be able to find and track the slight prints left behind by those on patrol. That was if she could see them. Shyla had been following the bumps, but that wouldn’t help with her disguise.
Just as she was fumbling for the druk, a monk appeared in front of her. She jumped in surprise. Guess she’d been distracted.
“Sorry,” he said. “But it’ll take you forever to find the monastery in the dark. I thought I’d save you some time.”
“Thank you.” She’d already forgotten she wassupposedto be a monk. They didn’t let their colleagues stumble around in the dark. Strangers, yes. Fellow monks, no.
“I’m Walkur Lyons.” He held out his hand.
“Shasta Parzival.” She gave him a fake name just in case they’d heard of her. Shaking his hand, she hoped Shasta was close enough to Shyla that she remembered to respond when someone called her by that name.
“Zirdai’s pretty far. Are you on a spiritual journey or do you have news for us? We’ve heard rumors about the Water Prince arresting monks.”
“I’m on a pilgrimage, but I can answer your questions as well.”
“Wonderful. You can join the pilgrims from Nintri.”
“Nintri? Have they been here long?” she asked as he led her through the desert.
“No. About three or five sun jumps.” Walkur laughed. “I can’t keep track.”
They arrived at the entrance. Like all the other monasteries Shyla had visited, this one had a single room on the surface. About a dozen monks waited within.
“What took you so long?” a man asked. “We thought you got lostagain.”
Chuckles sounded.
“Looks like Walkur’s found another stray. What did we tell you about that?” one woman teased.
“Very funny,” Walkur said. “This is Shasta, she’s from Zirdai. She just got off that caravan we tracked.”
“They made it to Apanji?” a monk asked Walkur in surprise.
“Just about.”
