end of the thin, flat area that ran from end to end of the Shrine’s rear building, with the flawless roof sloping down sharply on either side. He turned while squatting, and in one sweeping glance covered the whole structure with his eyes.
Hesitatingly, he put his palm down flat on the marble-sand. Power surged up his arm and into his body, tingling where his feet touched it in a different place.
Change, he told it. Serve me. It did. It molded into a roundish glob under his fingers, and soon he held a perfectly round, perfectly hard sphere of the stuff in his hand. He had scooped it from the Shrine itself.
Everything made unexpected sense.
People like ME built this! He realized. Men or women with the same gifts as me must have shaped the sand and stone before anyone else lived here! Just like I did to Old Murie’s grave, they did to a whole mountain of sand!
He put the glob of marble-sand back where it belonged and flattened it out. It wasn’t perfect, but he doubted anyone would see or care about the difference. With the exhilarating feeling produced by touching the Shrine, he was soon crouched low and scooting along the roof towards the great dome ahead of him.
They must have been so powerful, he thought, so strong and skilled! I can only shape sand a little- maybe they were able to do the same to rock! It’s almost as if they made their own kind of earth… their own element, and used it to build this place. Unbelievable.
Maybe they were giants.
In a minute or two he was standing next to the dome. It arched up above him at least fifty feet, and even though he stood atop the rest of the Shrine, just this part made him feel small and helpless.
There were designs carved in the dome’s unmarred white marble-sand. Warriors, horses, monsters and machines did battle in effigy, carved by the Shrine’s mysterious forgotten creators around four luminous, round windows set at the four corners of the compass.
It was the work of a moment for Gribly to climb up to the one that faced him. He didn’t want to waste time, and he was now acutely aware that the afternoon was wearing away. Not that night held any unnatural fear for him… but he didn’t like to be caught out after dark. No one in Ymeer did, whether it was instinct or superstition too deeply rooted to be removed.
He stood in front of the window, where it stretched up three times his height. He was in a shadowed, shallow windowsill of sorts that curved up around the window’s round edge in a perfect circle. The window itself was made of an infinitely thick, rough colored glass that seemed to emanate light without actually getting any brighter. Wrought iron held the pieces together and ran around its edge and across it two ways.
“How do I get in?” the thief wondered. The answer came to him unbidden, as if someone else had put it into his head.
Glass is sand.
“Oh,” he said. Putting his hand out, he tested the idea.
The pane of red glass in front of him bubbled and melted away from his touch. A hole formed in accordance with his unspoken wish, spreading outward in a bleeding wave of liquid, red glass.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done with his gift, and by the time he had melted enough of the huge pane away to step through the hole, his brow was drenched in sweat and the sun was low in the sky behind him.
I bet all the snot-headed nobles would get their robes in a twist if they knew what I’m doing to their prized building! That thought alone gave him the fortitude to change the glass. After gaining entry he turned and made sure the hole would stay open so he could escape the same way.
Without another thought he began the careful, dangerous climb down the inside of the Shrine walls.
~
Only when he reached the bottom was he able to really see what the inside of the
Hesitatingly, he put his palm down flat on the marble-sand. Power surged up his arm and into his body, tingling where his feet touched it in a different place.
Change, he told it. Serve me. It did. It molded into a roundish glob under his fingers, and soon he held a perfectly round, perfectly hard sphere of the stuff in his hand. He had scooped it from the Shrine itself.
Everything made unexpected sense.
People like ME built this! He realized. Men or women with the same gifts as me must have shaped the sand and stone before anyone else lived here! Just like I did to Old Murie’s grave, they did to a whole mountain of sand!
He put the glob of marble-sand back where it belonged and flattened it out. It wasn’t perfect, but he doubted anyone would see or care about the difference. With the exhilarating feeling produced by touching the Shrine, he was soon crouched low and scooting along the roof towards the great dome ahead of him.
They must have been so powerful, he thought, so strong and skilled! I can only shape sand a little- maybe they were able to do the same to rock! It’s almost as if they made their own kind of earth… their own element, and used it to build this place. Unbelievable.
Maybe they were giants.
In a minute or two he was standing next to the dome. It arched up above him at least fifty feet, and even though he stood atop the rest of the Shrine, just this part made him feel small and helpless.
There were designs carved in the dome’s unmarred white marble-sand. Warriors, horses, monsters and machines did battle in effigy, carved by the Shrine’s mysterious forgotten creators around four luminous, round windows set at the four corners of the compass.
It was the work of a moment for Gribly to climb up to the one that faced him. He didn’t want to waste time, and he was now acutely aware that the afternoon was wearing away. Not that night held any unnatural fear for him… but he didn’t like to be caught out after dark. No one in Ymeer did, whether it was instinct or superstition too deeply rooted to be removed.
He stood in front of the window, where it stretched up three times his height. He was in a shadowed, shallow windowsill of sorts that curved up around the window’s round edge in a perfect circle. The window itself was made of an infinitely thick, rough colored glass that seemed to emanate light without actually getting any brighter. Wrought iron held the pieces together and ran around its edge and across it two ways.
“How do I get in?” the thief wondered. The answer came to him unbidden, as if someone else had put it into his head.
Glass is sand.
“Oh,” he said. Putting his hand out, he tested the idea.
The pane of red glass in front of him bubbled and melted away from his touch. A hole formed in accordance with his unspoken wish, spreading outward in a bleeding wave of liquid, red glass.
It was the hardest thing he’d ever done with his gift, and by the time he had melted enough of the huge pane away to step through the hole, his brow was drenched in sweat and the sun was low in the sky behind him.
I bet all the snot-headed nobles would get their robes in a twist if they knew what I’m doing to their prized building! That thought alone gave him the fortitude to change the glass. After gaining entry he turned and made sure the hole would stay open so he could escape the same way.
Without another thought he began the careful, dangerous climb down the inside of the Shrine walls.
~
Only when he reached the bottom was he able to really see what the inside of the
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