“You’ll have to go in alone,” Edan said, stopping at the mirror.
I blinked. “You’re not coming?”
“I can’t,” he said. “Emperor Khanujin has forbidden it.”
“What does that matter? He forbade you to come on this trip, and here you are.”
His expression darkened. “That’s not entirely true. I worded my request carefully. He forbade me to acquire Amana’s children for you. He didn’t specifically say that I couldn’t come on the expedition.” Edan folded his hands, looking apologetic. “I’m afraid you’ll have to do the hard work yourself.”
“And my father always said I was the obedient one.” I sniffed. “Very well, I won’t tell the emperor if you come into the temple with me.”
Edan shook his head, strangely adamant. “You’ll go alone. Don’t worry—it’s nowhere as dangerous as the next two tasks.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
He handed me his canteen, only a quarter full. “The temple is a labyrinth. Always take the brighter turn, no matter how unbearable it feels. You’ll find a round mirror in the center that directly reflects the sun. You’ll have to get to the ledge just above the glass. Put on the gloves and reach out only with your hands.” After a long second, he added, “Any unprotected part of your body will burn.”
I gulped. “What do I do then?”
He unclenched his fist, revealing the last thing I’d expected to see.
“A walnut?”
“You didn’t think you could trap sunlight and moonlight in a jar, did you?” Edan licked his lips to moisten them. “I take it you don’t know the tale. After the god of thieves stole the sun and the moon, he stored their light—”
“In walnut shells,” I said, remembering now. “Walnuts were his favorite food, and who would think to look in a nut?”
Edan nodded. “Coincidence or not, walnuts have unusual magical properties. Not only can they store magic, but they are capable of concealing it as well—from other enchanters, or the like.”
“Your trunks are made of walnut wood,” I observed. “As is the hilt of your dagger.”
“Correct.” He passed me the shell. “Crack it open when you are at the mirror and the sun is at its zenith. Do not look into the sun. Say it.”
“I won’t look into the sun.”
“Good. I’ll wait for you here.”
One step into the temple, and the blazing heat already threatened to suffocate me. There was no roof to block the brutal rays, and I didn’t dare touch the walls. I trod on, shedding my tunic and tying it around my waist. My skin simmered with sweat, the heat pricking my eyes.
The sun was a brutal god, I remembered from Sendo’s tales. Brutal and merciless, he blinded those foolish enough to look at him. Was he watching me now, as I ventured into his labyrinth? Would he punish or help me on my quest to make his mother’s dresses? More likely he’d do nothing at all. The gods rarely showed themselves.
Deeper into the temple, the paths narrowed and forked. As Edan had described, there was always one path in shade, the other in bright sunlight. No matter how I longed to shelter in the shadows, I always chose the brighter path. The labyrinth was a furnace, trapping all the heat of the desert. If this was the easiest of the three, I didn’t want to know what the other two tasks involved.
Most paths were littered with broken bricks that slowed my progress, but the passages buried in sand were the worst, for I had to wade through slowly enough not to sink, yet fast enough that I didn’t bake under the sun.
At last, I arrived in the heart of the labyrinth, where the sun’s power nearly blinded me. I caught a glimpse of the courtyard with the round mirror before I had to shut my eyes for protection. The mirror resembled the pool outside the temple, its light magnified a thousandfold. I blinked, spying a wooden ladder propped against one of the courtyard walls. At the top was a ledge that extended out above the mirror.
Half blind, I moved to the ladder. The wood creaked under my feet, and I prayed that the dry beams wouldn’t snap. The wind kept knocking me to my knees, and I dug my nails into the wood so I wouldn’t blow off.
Amana, have mercy, I thought as I climbed, stealing glimpses of the ledge above. It jutted over the mirror like an outstretched hand, sand sifting through its fingers.