The old priest nodded to himself and then went across the stone-paved yard to the temple steps. He climbed the stairs, raised the iron ring on the great wooden door, and knocked several times.

After a few moments the door opened and a man in a red cloak poked his head out. “The temple is not open at this hour.” The man looked at the old priest unkindly. “Come back at the seventh hour if you want prayers or an omen.”

“Do you not see that I am a priest?” asked the old one. “I have come to see the High Priest of Ariel.”

“He sees no one,” the temple guard said. “He is in retreat.”

“Is he, indeed? But this is a matter of greatest urgency. He must see me.”

The guard glared at the wrinkled old priest, and his features proclaimed that the old man and his crooked staff were a great nuisance.

But before he could reply, the old priest spoke again. “It is not for you to decide. Bring someone in authority. If not the High Priest, then the under-High Priest, or the Day Priest.”

The temple guard glared a silent curse on the old man and closed the door. The elderly priest stood for a few moments and waited, head bent down. Just as he was about to raise the ring once again he heard steps on the other side of the door. A gray-cloaked priest, a young man with a pocked face, thrust his head through the opening. Behind him the guard stood frowning.

“Well,” the young priest said, “what do you want?”

“I wish to speak with the High Priest. That is allowed, surely. It is a matter of some importance.”

“He sees no one unannounced,” snapped the priest.

“Then I wish to be announced at once,” said the old man softly. His faded eyes hardened to stone.