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There were a few places in the throne hall that she preferred, just as a person sitting in a house full of sunlight also had a preferred position

。 520 There were several dressing rooms at the end of the building, one of which had a small attic on top, and she frequented there. In the attic, ancient ceremonial robes were stored for the former princes and nobles and other dignitaries to change into when they came to worship at the Etuan Mausoleum; By coming here to worship, these people acknowledge that there is a realm that is greater than their own or that of any mortal. Sometimes, their princesses' daughters would be accompanied by the priestess of the mausoleum in a soft white silk robe inlaid with topaz and a dark purple water sun seal. Among the treasures hidden in the attic are several small painted ivory tables, which are illustrated by the drawings on the tabletops. While they danced, the king or lord waited outside the temple, indicating that, as now, men were forbidden to set foot in the mausoleum grounds. Instead, the maids could come in and dance with the priestess, who were dressed in white silk robes. But the priestess herself, as she is now, wears only a coarse black robe, which is the same in ancient and modern times. Aerha likes to come here and touch the silk robes with her fingers, although they have been slightly damaged by age, but the pleasant soft touch is still there. The jewels on the gown do not disappear, some have fallen off due to their own weight. These wardrobes have a fragrance that is fresher, lighter, and more tender than the musk or incense found in the temple where they are located.

In these treasure rooms, she often spent the whole night inspecting a single chest and seeing everything completely: jewels, rusty armor, broken tiller feathers, belt buckles, pins, brooches, bronze, silver-plated, pure gold......

The owl ignored her presence and sat down on the rafters, its yellow eyes open or closed. A little starlight penetrates through the cracks of the roof tiles, and snowflakes will fall, delicate and cold, just like those ancient silk robes, rubbing and feeling nothing.

One night in the depths of winter, because it was too cold in the hall, she walked to the trapdoor, lifted it, twisted and climbed down the stairs, and then closed the trapdoor. She quietly stepped into the path to the tomb, which she was already familiar with. Of course, she never went to the tomb with a lamp, and sometimes even if she brought a lantern into the labyrinth, or walked on the ground at night, she would extinguish the candle as long as she was near the tomb. So, she had never seen the place, not even the generations in which she had been a priestess. Now that she has entered this corridor, she blows out the candle flame in the lantern she holds as usual, and then moves forward in the dark at the same pace, but she is as relaxed as a small fish in the black water. It's never hot or cold, it's always the same coolness and the same humidity in winter or summer. Above, the cold winter wind swept the snow across the desert; And here: no wind, no season, closed, quiet, safe.

She was going to go to the paint room. She likes to go there once in a while, studying the bizarre murals on the walls by dim candlelight. The murals stand out in the darkness of the ground, and they are full of winged men with big eyes, some serene and some depressed. No one could tell her who those people were. There were no such drawings elsewhere in the location, but she recognized them as ghosts of the unborn, cursed. Since the painting room is located in a large labyrinth, she must first walk through the large tomb under the tombstone area; This time, as she descended through the inclined passage, she saw a faint gray, a faint glimmer, a reflection of distant light.

She thought it was the eyes that were at fault, after all, in total darkness, the eyes were often deceiving. She closed her eyes, and the glimmer disappeared, and when she opened her eyes again, the glimmer returned.

By this time she had stopped, standing still. It's gray, not black. The faint grayishness of the edges was also clearly visible, and this place should have been invisible, and it should have been completely dark.

She took a few steps forward, reaching out to touch the corner of the tunnel, and noticed that the movement of her hand was faintly visible.

She moved on. In this dark and deep tomb, there is a glimmer of light in this place where there has never been light, it is really unimaginable and strange, and it has surpassed the level of fear. She was barefoot and black, and she moved forward silently. At the last turn, she stopped, then slowly moved her last step, staring, watching.

It was a sight she had never seen before. Although she had lived for thousands of lifetimes, she had never seen such a sight: a large vaulted cavern under the tombstone of the mausoleum, hollowed out by the earth, and white pinnacles covered with crystal and limestone. This is where the underground water has been working for many years since ancient times. The glittering roofs and walls are so splendid and intricate that the tomb transforms into a palace of diamonds, a house of amethysts and crystals. They gloriously and magnificently drove away the darkness of eternity.

The light that operates this spectacle is not clear, but it is still dazzling to the eyes accustomed to darkness

。 It was a soft, thin light, like a swamp light, that slowly crossed the cavern, polishing the pearlescent roof into a thousand silver flowers and casting a thousand fantastical shadows on the stone walls of the cavern.

The light radiated from the end of a wooden staff, and it didn't smoke, it didn't burn. The staff is held by a mortal hand. Alha saw the face next to the light, and the swarthy face was a man's face.

She was determined to do the same.

The man walked across the tomb for a long time. He looked closely behind the rocky bands of water, carefully observing the tunnels leading from the tomb, but he did not enter them. His actions looked as if he was looking for something. The Tomb Keeper remained still, standing in the dark corner of the passageway.

Perhaps the hardest thing for her to figure out was that she was watching a stranger. She had rarely seen strangers. She then guessed that this man must be one of the stewards. No, it should be the man on the other side of the wall, probably a shepherd, or a guard or slave in the area. He had come here to explore the secrets of the nameless, probably trying to steal something from the mausoleum......

to steal something, to steal the dark power. The words blasphemy slowly entered Erha's head. He is a man, and the soles of a man's feet are never to tread on this sacred tomb place. But he was already in the heart of this empty mausoleum, and he had entered. He has made light in the place where the light is forbidden, as has not happened since the foundation of heaven and earth. Why didn't the Nameless Knock Him Out?

The man stood, looking down at the rock floor, where it had been cut and moved. It was evident that the ground had been pried open and covered with back, and that the barren acid clod had been dug up for the purpose of making a grave, but it had not been carefully filled.

Her mothers had eaten all three prisoners, so why didn't she eat this one? What are they waiting for?

Wait for their hands to move, for their tongues to speak......

Get lost! Get lost! I don't care about you! Suddenly, she let go of her voice and screamed. A great echo rumbled around the tomb, as if to obfuscate the frightened swarthy face, which had just turned to her side, and then saw her through the swaying glow of the cavern. Immediately after, the light faded. All the radiance is gone. It was dark, then it was silent.

Now she could think again, she had gotten rid of that light magic.

He must have come in through the Red Rock Gate, the Prisoner's Gate, and as such, he would try to escape through that door. Like an owl with light wings, Alha ran silently and lightly through the half-circle of the cave to the lower part of the tunnel top: the only way to the door that could only be opened inward. She stopped at the entrance of the tunnel. There was no wind blowing from outside, so it was evident that he didn't let the one-way door open when he came in. The door was closed, and if he was still in the tunnel, it was clear that he would not be able to retreat at this point.

But he wasn't in the tunnel, she was pretty sure of that. In this narrow space, so close, if he was still there, she must have heard his breath and felt the warmth and pulse of his life. The tunnel was empty, and she stood up and listened. Where did he go?

The darkness pressed her eyes like a bandage. Seeing the mausoleum catacombs made her feel terrified and confused. The mausoleum she had known in the past was only a limited range of what she had heard, that she had touched with her hands, that she had perceived by the cool air in the dark, and that range was so large that no one could see it. Now she saw it, and instead of fear, the mystery had been taken over by beauty. Beauty, a mystery deeper than a dark mystery.

At this time, she walked slowly, a little hesitant. She touched and walked to the left to the second passage, which led to the Great Labyrinth. She paused to listen.

Her ears could tell her as little as her eyes. However, as she pressed her hand against the side of the rock archway, she felt as if the rock shook slightly, and the cold air that did not circulate seemed to carry a hint of an aroma that did not belong here: the smell of a wild soja leaf, and the plant grew in the desert hills above her head, and thrived under the vast sky

She followed her sense of smell and walked slowly and silently down the tunnel.

After about a hundred paces, she heard him. He was almost as silent as she was, but his steps in the darkness were not as steady as hers, and she heard the faint sound of footsteps for a moment, as if she had stumbled over the uneven ground, but she immediately steadied herself. Then, there was a dead silence. She waited for a moment, then continued to lift her leg slowly, the tip of her right finger touching the stone wall. Finally, my finger touched a metal round bar. She stopped, and continued to touch the iron bar upwards until she reached the highest position she could reach, when she felt a raised, rough iron handle. Then, with all her might, she pulled her handle down.

There was a terrible rattle and crash, and blue sparks fell. The echo slowly faded, and a grumbling voice echoed down the passage behind her. She reached out and felt the slightly pockmarked surface of an iron door just inches away from her face.

She let out a long breath.

Then, she slowly walked uphill from the tunnel back to the tomb, keeping the wall on her right, and walked back to the trapdoor of the throne hall. Although there was no need for silence, she did not scurry, but walked slowly without a sound. She'd already caught her thief anyway: the door he had just passed through was the only way to get in and out of the labyrinth, and it could only be opened from the outside.

Now, he's in the labyrinth, trapped in that dark underground, never going to get out.

She straightened up and walked slowly past the throne into the pillared hall. There is a bronze bowl in this hall, which is placed on a high tripod, and the bowl is full of fiery red charcoal. She walked around the bronze bowl and walked up the seven steps to the throne.

She knelt down the lowest step and touched her forehead to the ground. The stone steps were not only cold and dusty, but also scattered with owl hunting and discarded mouse bones.

Please forgive me for witnessing your darkness being violated, and she whispered: Please forgive me for witnessing the desecration of your tombs. I will avenge you, my mistresses, and death will give him to you, and he will never be born again!

Although she prayed, what she saw in her heart was the swaying splendor of the cave with light, the life in the underworld. Moreover, she felt no fear of blasphemy, and no wrath against the thief; All she could think about was how strange and peculiar the cave was......

What should I tell Ke Xiu? She stepped out of the hall into the fierce winter wind, and as she tightened her cloak, she asked herself that she would say nothing. Don't tell her yet. I am the mistress of the Great Labyrinth, and this is none of the business of the God-King. Wait until the thief is dead and tell her. How do I kill him? I should have called Ke Xiu to see him put to death, she loved death. What is he looking for? He must be crazy. How did he get in? Only Ke Xiu and I have the keys to the red rock door and the trapdoor. He must have entered through the Red Rock Gate, and only a warlock could open it. Warlock –

She stopped suddenly, though the strong wind almost blew her feet off the ground.

He is a sorcerer, a sorcerer from the Inner Ring Islands, looking for the Amulet of Eriabay.

There was a strange magic hidden in this conclusion, which made her feel warm and laugh out loud even though she was in the icy winter wind. She was surrounded by a place surrounded by a dark and dead desert; The winter wind was biting, and the big house under the hillside was not bright. Invisible thin snow drifting in the wind.

If he could open the Red Rock Gate with sorcery, he could open other doors and escape.

This thought immediately sent a chill down her spine, but she immediately rejected it. It was the nameless who let him in. Why not? He couldn't do any harm anyway: what damage could a thief who couldn't leave the scene of the theft do? He was able to make this step, presumably with spells and evil powers, and certainly powerful spells and powers, but he couldn't move forward. It is impossible for mortal magic to prevail over the will of the nameless, or over the ghosts of the tombs, or against the kings of the ages whose thrones are empty.

To help herself confirm the idea, she walked briskly down the hill to the hut

。 Manan slept on the porch, wrapped in a cloak and a torn blanket that was his winter **. She walked into the house quietly, without lighting the light, lest she wake up Manan. She opened a small, locked room and said it was a small room, but it was just a large cabinet at the end of the room. She struck the flint, and the sparks lasted just long enough for her to find somewhere on the floor she was looking for. She knelt down and removed a brick, revealing a small piece of dirty cloth only a few inches square, which she pulled away silently, but jumped away in surprise: a light came up and shone right on her face.

It was a moment before she cautiously peered through the opening in the ground. She had forgotten that the man's staff glowed with strange light. She had only expected to hear him walk in the darkness below, but she had forgotten the light. Now, he was where she had expected: directly below the hole, by the iron door that prevented him from escaping the labyrinth.

He stood there, one hand at his waist and the other on the wooden staff that was as high as he was. The tip of the cane is attached to a faint phosphorus fire. From a height of about six feet, his head was slightly tilted to one side. The man wore the usual winter traveler or pilgrim's attire: a heavy short cloak, a leather tunic, woolen leggings, lace-up straw sandals; There is a light back bag on the back, and a water bottle is hung from the bag; At the waist there is a short knife with a sheath. He stood there like a statue, at ease and with a deep contemplative expression.

He slowly lifted the staff from the ground and extended the glowing end towards the iron door, which Alha couldn't see through the peephole. But I saw that the light changed, and it became smaller but brighter, and it was a dense ball of light. He spoke loudly, and Alha couldn't understand the strange language, but even stranger than that language was the man's deep and loud voice.

The light at the tip of the staff brightened, swayed, dimmed, and for a moment almost completely faded away, making it impossible for her to see him.

When the lilac swamp light reappeared and shone steadily, she saw him turn away from the iron door, his opening magic failing: the power to lock the door was greater than any magic he had.

He looked around as if thinking. What are you going to do?

The tunnel or passage on which he stood was about five feet wide, the roof of which was about twelve to fifteen feet from the rough and uneven rock floor, and the walls were solid rock, unplastered, but stacked so carefully and tightly that the point of a knife could barely penetrate between the cracks. The wall shrinks inward as it goes up, forming a dome of dome.

Nothing else.

He began to walk forward, taking only one big step out of Alha's sight. The light faded, and just as she tried to put the thick cloth and bricks back in their place, the glimmer of the floor in front of her intensified. He returned to the iron gate; Maybe he figured it out, once he left the iron gate and entered the tunnel, it was probably unlikely that he would find it again.

He spoke, only whispering two words: Yimen, and then repeating it in a slightly louder voice: Yimen. The iron door rattled in the door frame, and the low echo rumbled like thunder through the arched tunnel, and Erha felt as if the floor was shaking beneath her feet.

But the iron gate is still strong.

He laughed, it was the man who wanted to see how much I stayed! The kind of short laughter that came out. He looked closely at the walls around him again, and when he glanced up, Alha saw a smile on his swarthy face. He sat down, released his backpack, took out a slice of dry bread, and chewed it. He opened the leather kettle and shook it, and it looked very light, as if it was almost empty; He didn't drink and re-tucked the lid on. He put his backpack behind him as a pillow, wrapped his cloak around his body, and lay down, his staff still in his right hand. As he lay down, a small ball or ball of light floated upwards from the staff, and then hung dimly behind his head, just a few feet above the ground. He rested his left hand on his chest, holding something that hung from a heavy necklace. He lay there with his legs folded on his ankles, quite comfortable. His gaze drifted through the peephole, then he sighed and closed his eyes. The light was dimming. He slept.

The hand clenched at his chest let go and slid to one side, and the onlookers above saw the amulet on his necklace: like a small piece of coarse metal, half-moon-shaped.