Thorat sounded the bell and waited. At length, a priestess came, the younger of the two. She was about Thorat’s own age. She looked distracted.
“What brings you, petitioner, to our gates?” she asked flatly.
“I come to give thanks to Tiada for my inheritance, and to ask her blessing on my journey.”
The priestess nodded and ushered him in. She held out a hand for beads.
“I don’t have enough for the Great Rite,” Thorat said.
“No?” The priestess looked suddenly more awake. “Then why come?”
“To give thanks to the dragons for their bounty.”
“Oh. I see. Come through to the hall, then,” she said. “We had a public shrine there, and it’s still there.”
A narrow corridor led past two small offering chambers and around an empty bath, which was not fed or heated by the dragon’s springs, and thus
