Robin and Mhara had come to the end of the side canal some time ago and were now traveling as unobtrusively as possible along the main Jhenrai. Day was coming quickly, the light spilling out of the eastern sky and turning the flat water of the canal into pale gold. Robin was trying to find her bearings. Everything seemed truncated and squashed at this angle. She could see the unpopular angled roof of the Eregeng Trade House from here, and the First Bank of China rising up through the throng of buildings along Shaopeng. There, suddenly glimpsed, rose the dome of the Opera House, in shadow. Then the chugging boat took them around the next long bend. Beyond the storage piers and warehouses was the bulk of the ruined temple of Shai. As they rounded the turn Robin realized that the great iron doors of the temple were open. The canal lapped against the sluice gate.
"Listen!"
"I know." Mhara's voice held a grim note. They could hear the erratic swish of a powerboat engine approaching up the western stream of the Jhenrai. It was one of the big troop boats, the Paugeng symbol bright along its side, and as it spun to a showy stop before Mhara and Robin, the latter saw a form, indistinct in the morning light, crouched in the blunt prow. The little boat bobbed uneasily in the wake.
"Have they seen us?" Robin asked from beneath the concealment of the canopy.
"I think so." She looked at Mhara, whose face was bright and peaceful as he knelt in the shelter of the canopy. The rim of the sun, blazing summer white, crept over the edge of Wuan Chih and the world was abruptly flooded with light. The canal burned in the sudden sun and above them the temple was thrown into a massive angular blackness. The Paugeng troop boat was no more than a shadow against the water. Slowly, Mhara turned the tiller so that the boat spun into the watery entrance of the temple.
"We can't go in there!" Robin protested, but they were caged and outmaneuvered by the troop boat. The little craft, with Robin trying in vain to see beneath the canopy, began to edge forward. The brimming sunlight ran from the sides of the wharves, spun out of the water. The Jhenrai danced with a fiery brightness and now the edge of the boat was bumping against the sluice. In haste, Mhara spun the wheel and the sluice gate creaked upward. The troop boat surged forward and then Mhara and Robin were through the narrow channel and into the temple vault. Behind them, something gave a low, snickering laugh.
Within, the temple seemed enormous. The top of the dome lay at the edges of sight, though from the outside Robin had always judged it to be a couple of hundred feet high. The vault itself was darkness laid upon darkness, but from the crest of the dome a single beam of light sent the dust motes twirling in the air. The vault was filled with whispering: voices murmured in Robin's ear, borne on a rushing wind like the breath of the sea. The sound muffled the mechanical beat of the boat's engines, churning the smooth, black surface of the cistern into a pattern of dappling water. Slowly the boat slid forward, a toy in the midst of vastness, and by the time the wider Paugeng boat had engineered itself through the cistern sluice, Robin and Mhara had turned the corner and vanished into emptiness.