Beneath the palace, I descended a cool, spiraling stone staircase.
With each step, the clamor from the floors above faded farther away, replaced by the damp scent of stone rising to meet me.
At the lowest level, a massive wooden door reinforced with thick iron bands blocked my way.
Beside it, the relief of an angel missing one wing cast a shadow in the candlelight.
I inserted the silver key the bureau director had entrusted to me.
It turned smoothly, without resistance.
From a narrow, high window near the ceiling, set just above ground level, the last light of the setting sun over the plaza pierced the dark room in a single, sharp beam.
Within that beam, specks of dust, fine as could be, danced silently.
The polished marble floor gleamed beneath me.
A pure white linen cloth covered the altar, while silver candlesticks arranged symmetrically on either side gleamed dully in the underground stillness...
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