All things have a beginning. Men from children, trees from saplings, rivers from rain.

All things have a foundation. Life rests upon bread, and below that grain, stalk, seed, soil, water and sun.

But what kindles the first beginning? Upon what does the first foundation rest?

- Introductory words of the Majan Saom.

“Every day?” Mark asked sourly.

Tesu nodded, leafing through the book. “He appears to have been very particular about his schedule. Each page is one day. On each page he notes that he awoke, ate, meditated, patrolled, read, patrolled, reported to the garrison, ate, read and slept. The same routine, every day.” Tesu closed it and shook his head. “He could have saved ink if he only noted departures from the normal. After the first page the book would be blank.”

“He was stuck on top of a mountain, I think the extra writing was half the point,” Mark said. “So, fine. He’s due to check in at the end of the day. We have until then to find his twinplate.”

“And his codebook,” Tesu pointed out glumly. “And to determine which of the codes he would typically use, because I’m sure a change would draw attention.” He waved the journal halfheartedly.

Mark nodded, considering, then turned to Tesu with a thoughtful look. “You know,” he said, “you’re being suspiciously helpful.”

“Yes, yes, you’ve caught me,” Tesu said, looking exasperated. “Discovered my devious plot to keep my head attached to my neck. You do realize that my status as a scriptsmith means little when it comes to the garrison abbey, don’t you? Whether it was you, me or Vumo Ra, they would kill us for setting foot in the Sanctum. They would kill Citsuje Di himself if he dared try.”

“Well, see,” Mark said, “I actually had no way of knowing that helpfully depressing bit of information. You’re the only one who knows anything about any of this, and you didn’t tell me.”

Tesu blinked, then scowled. “Ask more pertinent questions, then,” he muttered. “Exceedingly inefficient to expect me to - hm, anyway.” He stuffed the guard’s journal into his robes and peered around the room. “We should locate the twinplate.”

Mark rolled his eyes and set about looking through the guards’ belongings. Their search went quickly, as the ascetic guardroom had few places in which such a thing could be hidden. Within minutes they had the twinplate laid out on a table along with several other oddities from the guards’ belongings.

Mark picked up an irregularly-shaped bundle of gauzy fabric, turning it over in his hands. “This is odd,” he muttered, unwinding the gauze. “It’s lighter than you’d expect. The shape is - oh, for fuck’s sake!” As he unwound the final strips covering the object it was revealed as a severed, desiccated hand with its fingers clasped tightly into a fist. Mark hurriedly dropped it on the table, and both men stared at it in silence for several seconds.

“That’s a bit grotesque,” Tesu said eventually.

Mark shook his head. “A bit?” he scoffed. “I keep holding on to this little bit of hope that not every Sjocelym is a lunatic, but if you’re about to tell me that keeping severed hands in your bedroom strikes you as even slightly normal... then that’s it. I’m going to write you all off.”

“The soldiers at the abbey are famously somewhat odd,” Tesu admitted. “I’ve never heard of anything like this, however. It reminds me of the silent ones.” He cautiously pulled at the gauze still obscuring the base of the hand. The arm was present for several inches, after which there was only a stub of protruding, clean-cut bone. A braided leather cord ran around the thinnest part of the wrist, as cracked and dry as the skin underneath.

Mark frowned. “Weird,” he muttered. “I can’t see how it’d have anything to do with the twinplate, though, so let’s just leave the creepy hand alone.”

“Unfortunately, that seems to have been the last of it,” Tesu said. “We have the twinplate, but without a codebook we have little chance of sending the correct sequence.”

Mark scratched his head, looking towards the open door to the hall. “Well, let’s not give up just yet,” he said. “If he was sending the same code every day he’d have it memorized. Might not have felt the need to keep the book close at hand.”

“There may not even be a book, if that’s the case,” Tesu pointed out.

“Yeah, but until we figure out we’re fucked for certain I’m going to go ahead like we’re not,” Mark said, popping to his feet. “Come on, let’s keep at it. Still plenty of places to look.”

The two continued their search of the building, moving through room after nearly-identical room. Most contained little more than a thick coating of dust, while others had long-disused crates of supplies or discarded furniture so old the wood crumbled with a touch.

Apart from the high-ceilinged central hall the Sanctum’s interior was cramped and mazelike. The black stone and general lack of windows lent the endless empty rooms a funereal air, as if they were walking through catacombs that lay patiently waiting for their occupants.

Hours passed with little to show for it. Ajehet had taken the majority of his force to scout the exterior now that the sun was up, and it was all the remaining soldiers could do to see that bellies were full, injuries treated and panic assuaged. Only Arjun, Gusje and a handful of gold-cloaks could be spared for a search, and the size of the half-buried warrens was such that they had rarely encountered any of the other searching groups.

Then, amid the endless dark and geometric monotony, Mark heard the dripping of water. He paused in the corridor and cocked his head. “Tesu, you hear that?” he asked.

“I do,” the scriptsmith replied, looking around to try and pinpoint the source. Around the next corner Mark’s flashlight caught a shimmering pillar of milk-white stone slumped against the wall. He winced at the sudden brilliance after so long in the black tunnels, but as his eyes adjusted he saw that small rivulets of water traced over the surface of the stone.

“Huh,” Mark said. He reached out a hand to touch it, feeling the slick surface of the accretion. “We must be under the mountain.” His fingers traced over a crack in the black stone wall that was thickly lined with crystalline deposits. “Looks like water found its way in and started laying down some mineral buildup. A lot of buildup,” he amended, looking at the formation. It didn’t block the hallway, but it did narrow its width considerably.

Mark grinned. “Arjun’s going to be like a little kid when he sees this,” he said. “All right, let’s take a look and see what’s on the other side. If there’s enough water making its way in we’ll want to send a crew here to fill up. Most of what we had to leave in Sjatel was water.”

“Doesn’t smell very nice,” Tesu muttered. “Give me good, pure water from an utel any day over cave scum.”

“It’s filtered through rock, it should be reasonably pure,” Mark said, edging past the outcrop. Once he was able to work past the chokepoint he saw that the formation continued down the hall for a short way, even forming some terraced pools before trickling out through another crack in the stonework.

“Damn, that’s a lot of buildup,” Mark whistled. “Tesu, how old is this place? I’m not an expert like Jackie and Arjun, but I’m pretty sure stuff like this takes thousands - ah, a really long time to form,” he said.

Tesu shook his head, brushing irritably at his wet robes as he moved past the chokepoint. “We’re not entirely sure,” he admitted. “Records from that time are spotty, and very little is written about the vinesavaim in particular. We’re not even sure who built the Sanctum. A significant minority of those who care to offer their opinion contend that we came upon Maja in His seat much as it is now.”

Mark gave him an incredulous look as he continued forward. “Well, come on,” he insisted. “Someone built it, the mountain didn’t form this way.”

“That’s not a fair characterization of the argument,” Tesu scowled. “Obviously it was built, but we must allow for the-”

Mark paused as Tesu suddenly stopped talking and grabbed his arm. “Buddy, I don’t know you well enough to hold hands,” Mark said, looking back at the scriptsmith reproachfully. Tesu didn’t reply. His face was frozen in shock, staring ahead at a point past Mark’s shoulder.

Frowning, Mark turned to look at what had transfixed the scriptsmith. An arched frame enclosed the hallway ahead, forming a decorative portal with a squarish placard at its peak. Tiny stalactites had run down the face of the archway, giving it a wintry aspect writ in stone rather than ice.

The left side of the placard was the only clear portion. Mark could see two strange glyphs carved into the black stone. “Tesu, what is that?” he asked. “That’s not your normal lettering.”

“Jala Sao,” Tesu croaked hoarsely. “Scribe script. We need to turn back.”

“Because of the writing?” Mark asked. “It’s mostly covered up. What does it say?”

“Maja,” Tesu whispered.

Mark stared at him for a long moment. “So, up ahead…?” he asked, looking significantly at the darkened hall through the archway.

Tesu nodded. “Maja,” he repeated. “The seat must be ahead. We cannot intrude.”

A thoughtful look spread over Mark’s face. “I mean, I don’t see a door,” he pointed out. “I’m halfway tempted to keep on going and say hello. Not every day you get to meet a god.”

“No, you can’t!” Tesu cried, his eyes widening in horror. “The seat is inviolate, not even the ones who guard it dare approach!”

“So how do you know it’s forbidden if nobody has tried?” Mark countered. “Heck, maybe the poor guy would like a little company now and again, ever think about that?”

“Please don’t do this, please,” Tesu begged, clutching at Mark’s sleeve again. “There is no crime greater than disturbing His sanctity. It’s unthinkable.”

Mark snorted. “What are they going to do, stab us twice?” he asked. “Nah, I’m going to poke my head in. If Maja tells me to go, I’ll go.”

“You’re going to get us all killed,” Tesu snapped, balling his hands into fists. “And for what? Curiosity? A whim?”

Mark turned and fixed Tesu with a serious look. “Buddy, do you have any idea how magnificently fucked we are?” he asked. Tesu sputtered, and Mark held up a hand to forestall comment. “I wonder if Jesse has figured out how to say rhetorical yet,” he muttered. “Anyway, the answer is ‘very’, if you’re wondering. We have no options, no escape route, we’re stuck up a mountain and surrounded by armed fanatics, our food and water are limited and that’s just the immediate set of problems.”

“And you want to add ‘angering the most revered being in Tinem Sjocel’ to the litany?” Tesu shot back.

“What have we got to lose?” Mark asked. “Yeah, maybe it won’t work. Maybe Maja will boot me down the mountain. But maybe Maja hears us out. Maybe we get some advantage out of this. Is it risky? Yes. But it doesn’t increase our chances of dying since they’re already capped out.” He turned and walked down the hall, passing under the arch. After a few seconds, he looked over his shoulder to find Tesu still following.

“You know,” he said, “You don’t have to come along if it’s too scary for you.”

Tesu scowled at Mark even as he paced along behind him. “I may yet be able to prevent you from dooming us all,” he grumbled, although his voice was quavering with barely-controlled fear. “I’m coming in the hopes that you’ll see enough sense to listen to me.”

“It’s okay if you’re a little curious,” Mark needled him. “You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

The scriptsmith didn’t reply except to scoff and turn his head. They proceeded down the corridor for a short way before coming to a small room at its end. The room itself was nearly featureless save for a small pedestal at its center and a closed doorway opposite from where they entered.

The pedestal rose only a short way from the floor and bloomed out into a flat, angled surface like a lectern. Under the dust there seemed to be a shallow carving on the surface. Mark stepped closer to peer at it only to flinch away when a man’s voice boomed out from all directions, shaking a thin layer of dust from the ceiling with its basso volume.

“Isatsud-jet,” he thundered.

Mark’s eyes popped open. “Whoa, hey-” he began, only to be cut short.

“Tsad zhotse regavi Sjocelym Javesja an’u Sacaome jem Drautivat evit,” the man continued. “Hem u laade vaezhe majheis ra’catedhin.” Mark stood wide-eyed as the echos of the deafening voice died away, edging back towards the doorway with slow, tentative motions.

“Hey, Tesu,” he hissed, nudging the cowering scriptsmith with his boot. “That accent is a bit thick and I don’t know some of the words. Can you summarize?”

Tesu looked up at him, nearly incoherent with terror. “We must leave, now,” he stammered. “He commanded our attention and said that he is bound to serve only the stewards of the land. He threatened us with punishment should we attempt to enter without His leave.”

“Okay, that kinda matches up with what I heard,” Mark muttered, continuing to back away towards the hallway. “But there’s something about the phrasing I can’t quite put my finger on…” He frowned and looked at the pedestal for a few seconds, then straightened up with sudden realization. “Oh, hell,” he muttered. “Tesu, we need to go back to the gateway room.”

The scriptsmith gave him an exasperated look and gestured that he should keep moving back. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” he hissed. “We should leave and be grateful that-”

“No, no,” Mark said, cutting him off. “We need to go back and find the others. Bring them here. Arjun, Jackie - Jesse would be helpful if he’s up by now.” He scratched his head, looking at the darkened pedestal room contemplatively. “But most of all, we need to find Gusje.”

There was darkness. Jesse opened his eyes, which did little to help. Orange blurs of light danced in the periphery of his vision, and a susurrus of hushed whispers crowded the stale, warm air.

He made an experimental effort at sitting up and managed to add a new sensation to the mix - pain. Every part of him pulsed with burning, itching agony. Jesse slumped back with a groan and let his head rest on the cold stone floor.

“Hey, he’s awake,” Jackie said. She walked over to kneel down next to him. “Hiya, Sparky,” she grinned. “How you feeling?”

“Ow,” Jesse croaked, his mouth feeling like it had been rubbed down with sandy cotton. “Water?”

Jackie nodded and helped him raise his head. After a few tentative swallows from a canteen he felt a little more human, if not precisely better. He raised himself further and looked around the darkened room. Crowds of refugees and soldiers milled about or sat in hushed circles on the ground. A small but distinct clear area surrounded the spot where he lay, marked at its edge by a few stone-faced halberdiers standing at attention.

“We made it?” Jesse asked.

“Yep,” Jackie confirmed. “Got through more or less in one piece. You’ve been out for a good while, we’ve had some folks poking around the place trying to figure out where we landed.” She leaned in close and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “We’re keeping it kind of quiet,” she murmured, “but we’ve landed at a temple high in the mountains. Apparently it’s where Maja lives.”

“Maja?” Jesse asked confusedly, provoking a frown and shushing finger from Jackie. “You mean the harvest god they keep talking about?” he whispered. “He’s actually here, physically?”

“That’s what Tesu said,” Jackie confirmed. “Mark and Ajehet found some crazy soldier-monks earlier, but only a couple.”

Jesse let himself sink back down a bit, feeling his mind limber up from the long rest. “So,” he said. “That means we’re in some trouble still.” He clenched his right hand, feeling the pain from the burns. He noticed that his sword had been laid carefully to the side a few feet away.

“To put it mildly,” she winced. “Mark’s been dragging Tesu all up and down the place trying to figure out a way to keep - oh, hey, here they are.” She waved to Mark, who was striding across the room as fast as the crowds would permit. He jogged up to the two of them with a grin, half-dragging Tesu behind him. The wheezing scriptsmith doubled over to try and catch his breath. Jesse caught a few amused looks from the Aesvain surrounding them, but they politely refrained from comment.

“Hey, man, how’re you doing?” Mark asked. “You’re up quicker than I thought.”

Jesse shook his head, immediately regretting it. “I don’t feel up,” he mumbled. “Head hurts. My arm, too.” He lifted his right arm to look at it, muzzily noting the tracery of branching red lines drawn across it. His palm was blistered where his skin had come in contact with the sword.

“Yeah, well,” Mark said. “That’s what happens when you play Ben Franklin. You’re lucky we have the asolan or I’m not sure you’d be here to complain at all.” He glanced around the room, then turned to Jackie. “Have you seen Arjun and Gusje around?” he asked.

“Yeah, they’re somewhere in this mess,” Jackie said. “Why, did you find something?”

Mark grinned, and Jesse noted the resigned look on Tesu’s face. “We found the something,” Mark said quietly. “Maja. The actual room he’s in.”

“What, really?” Jackie asked incredulously. “Did you see him?”

“Not exactly, but I heard…” Mark trailed off and shook his head, grinning. “I don’t want to say. Don’t want to, uh - what’s the sciencey phrase, ‘introduce bias?’ I want you guys to come and take a look without hearing my dumbass theories first.”

“The sciencey phrase,” Jackie said, deadpan.

“Shush,” Mark muttered. “I didn’t make fun of you when you called my rifle mag a ‘bullet holder.’”

Jesse snorted, and Jackie shot him a betrayed look. “So, what,” she said, marching determinedly past the topic. “You want us to all go on a field trip? Meet the Great and Powerful Maja?”

“Something like that, yeah,” Mark nodded. “Jesse, you feel up for it? We could use you, you’re the only one of us that ever got the hang of that formal speech shit.”

“Mark, he was barely able to sit up,” Jackie objected. She gave Jesse a concerned look as he grunted and pushed himself into a proper sitting position. His head was swimming, but a few seconds of closed eyes and steady breathing had him feeling more normal.

“I think moving around might help, actually,” Jesse groaned. “Really stiff.” He extended a hand to Mark, who grabbed it and hauled Jesse upright. There was another bout of dizziness that flashed through him, followed by a vague, manageable lightheadedness. He looked at Mark and Jackie, then nodded. “I’m good,” he confirmed.

“We’re doomed,” Tesu moaned, staring blankly at the floor.

Mark sighed. “Don’t mind him,” he said, waving off the others’ questioning looks. “He’s just a pessimist.” He frowned at the scriptsmith. “Not saying he isn’t right, but he’s wrong about why.”

Jackie looked at Mark skeptically. “I mean, he does have a point,” she said. “Is it a good idea for all of us to go bother Maja? The God, Maja? Who is, just so we’re all clear, an actual God?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the right move,” Mark said. “I’m like… eighty percent sure.”

Jesse stopped. “Eighty,” he said flatly.

“Eighty-five,” Mark amended. “Ninety.”

“You’re just saying higher numbers now,” Jackie accused.

Mark shrugged. “I’m feeling better about it with every second that passes,” he said. “Ninety-five. Come on, I already poked my head in once and I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” Jackie muttered. Jesse shook his head and bent down with another groan to retrieve his sword. He hesitated briefly before touching it, then curled his fingers tentatively around the grip. Nothing happened. He sighed, half-relieved and half-concerned. What had happened on the threshold to Sjatel - his memories were fuzzy, but he remembered the panic, the chaos, the sudden calm. The burning and the light.

He shook his head and sheathed the sword, carefully standing back up.

“You good?” Mark asked, looking at him cautiously. “Seemed like you were checked out for a second.”

Jesse shook his head. “I’m good,” he repeated. “Let’s find the others.”

It took a few minutes to locate the others in the crowd of Aesvain, but moving through the mass of refugees was easier than they had initially expected. The crowd flowed around them, always giving a wide berth and moving well clear of their path.

Jesse wondered at the odd behavior, noting a few ducked heads and muttered words as their group walked by. It was only when they found Arjun, Gusje and Tasja that they stopped moving and he heard what it was they were saying.

“Zhecima,” an old man muttered, dipping his head before moving aside.

A young woman clutched a baby to her breast and smiled at him. “Zhecima,” she said.

It was a low murmur that burbled in the crowd around them, and Jesse shifted uneasily to hear it. He turned to walk towards where Mark and Arjun were conversing in low tones.

“Why do they keep saying that?” he asked. “Zhecima. Lightning, in Ceiqa.”

Mark shrugged, but Arjun shook his head and grinned. “Do you remember when Jyte explained about the Aesvain and their relationship with names?” he asked. “They keep their birth name between family and go by a cognomen in public.” His eyes twinkled as he looked at Jesse. “It would appear that they’ve decided on yours. They’re thanking you.”

Jesse looked back out at the crowd. Several Aesvain who had been looking their way lowered their gaze, quietly murmuring the word. Zhecima. He turned back to the others, unsettled. “They don’t have to do that,” he muttered.

“I think they kinda want to,” Mark said. “Come on, dude, you tanked a lightning bolt for them. Let ‘em pat you on the back a bit!”

Arjun smiled again, but didn’t press the matter. “So, this room you found,” he said, tactfully ignoring Jesse’s look of relief at the change in subject. “You think it’s a way to talk to Maja?”

“I think it’s a way to meet Maja,” Mark said. “And I think we should go now. It’s already past noon outside, there are only hours left until we miss the normal check-in on the twinplate.”

“How will this help, though?” Gusje asked. “Even if Maja agrees to talk with us, what is he going to say that will change our situation?” She glanced at Tasja, probing for an answer, but he seemed frozen in terror at the concept of actually meeting a vinesavai.

Mark hesitated, then shook his head. “Guys, you’re just going to have to trust me on this. I don’t want to say too much beforehand in case I’m totally off-base. Just-” He made a small exasperated noise and scratched his head. “Let’s just go, you’ll see what I mean.”

Jackie rolled her eyes again, but the group slowly made their way to the room exit and from there to the warren of darkened hallways. They walked slowly in deference to Jesse’s injuries, but he found that as he moved they pained him less - although the dreadful pounding headache still lingered, flaring up if he turned too quickly.

They reached the blocked hallway in short order, squeezing past the calcified obstruction with only a short delay for Arjun and Jackie to prod excitedly at the slick, lumpy rock. Mark’s smug look was lost on Tesu, unfortunately, as the scriptsmith was once again working himself into a panic over their approach to the inner sanctum.

Finally, they arrived at the archway. Tasja goggled at the obscured text near the top, while the rest pressed silently forward. Mark raised his hand and called for a stop. “All right,” he said quietly. “Gusje. You walk first.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Me?” she said indignantly. “You’re the one that wants to bother a god, you walk first! I don’t want him thinking this was my idea.”

“It has to be you,” Mark insisted. “It’s the same as the doors, this place recognizes something about you. It’ll be safe, trust me.”

“You have no way of knowing that,” she grumbled. Nevertheless, she moved to the head of their party and took a few tentative steps forward.

A voice boomed out, masculine and thunderous. “Isatsud-jet,” it said, the intonation and timing precisely the same as the last visit. “Tsad zhotse regavi Sjocelym Javesja an’u Sacaome jem Drautivat evit. Hem u laade vaezhe majheis ra’catedhin.” Gusje flinched at each word, then turned back to Mark with a terrified, uncertain expression.

Tasja paled and took several steps back, murmuring apologies under his breath. Tesu had already retreated a short distance away and was genuflecting.

“Well?” Mark said triumphantly. He waved a hand at the room with the pedestal, barely able to contain his excitement. “Did you understand?”

Arjun and Jackie shook their heads. “It’s an odd accent,” Jackie muttered. “I wasn’t able to pick all of it up. Jesse, did you-” She paused. Jesse was staring at the room with utter surprise written on his face.

“Holy shit,” he murmured.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Mark said, grinning with exhilaration. “It’s got the same cadence. Go on, tell them.”

Jesse swallowed hard and put a hand on the wall to steady himself. “It said,” he whispered, “Attention: This system is the property of the Sjocel Province Stabilization Ministry. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.”