Quoted By:
I wasn't a stranger to courier work. Running the right message for the right people could pay very well, and if I was going in that direction anyway then certainly it was the universe aligning to guide me. "Thank you for your hospitality. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't." The silence which stretched after that terse answer grew uncomfortable. I'd heard there were certain taboos around names among the southern tribals, but that was my first time encountering them. To use a person's given name was to express a degree of authority over them, or so they believed. A belief they extended to gods and spirits as well.
Clearing my throat, I ventured, "Thank you again, innkeeper." Then I wasted no more time climbing back to the surface.
Stepping out into the sun was like stepping into an oven. The heat was all-consuming. Each breath stung my throat. It was all I could do to stop at the top of the stairs and acclimate, wrapping my headscarf tighter around my face before putting on my goggles. Smoky quartz lenses obscured the world in a misty haze, but they filtered out the worst of the glare.
The village itself was quieter than it had been the previous night, the only people about were a handful of merchants who had set up shop in the crumbling citadel. A few more were selling goods outside of their tents. I ignored them, walking a quarter circuit around the pillar of salt anchoring the southern end of Argakan. The shrine was carved into its western face. A narrow path guided my feet towards an even narrower entryway carved into the salt. To my left was a humanized representation of the goddess, the largest of all the carvings. She had a round face and a long beak of a nose; features I typically associated with the settled peoples of the southern desert.
Around the goddess the artists had carved a group of three supplicants, their backs turned to me, and their left hands outstretched. It was difficult to discern their features due to the placement of their heads, but they were feminine. Two of them had lost their offerings to erosion, but one of the carvings still clutched a delicate lotus flower. It was faded by the elements, the petals chipped away and the stem cracked, but the artist must have been very skilled to have created something so fine from rock salt.
The right side of the carved edifice was given over to many small alcoves each containing statues of the men and women who sponsored the shrine. Each of the statues were painted in a rainbow of colors made all the more garish by the ravages of time. Flakes of chipping paint rendered once serenely smiling faces grotesque and terrifying. Salt accumulated wherever it could, blocking off eyes and building up around joints. Some statues had been left in a state of disrepair; the limbs broken or the face chipped.
[1/3]
