The carved ramparts of red sandstone glowed with polished and intricate beauty in the bright mid-morning sun, and on leaving the palace, Raven strolled casually toward the nearest of these strange monuments to an even stranger faith. He could not understand the devotional psychology that had urged their creation, but the sheer size and dominance of the temples demanded a closer inspection. He was accompanied by Maryam, Namita, and Thorn. Maryam was at his side because this was where she wanted to be. Her bravado of the previous evening had dwindled with the cold light of dawn and a bout of warning chastisement from her mother, but she was still convinced that fate had ordained that this was to be her place. She had appeared, trembling a little, with the slave girl who had served his morning meal and had made it plain that during his waking hours she intended to be his constant companion and guide. It had been her suggestion, transmitted in smiles and gestures, that he should make a tour of the city.
