Two nights later Mihn found himself squatting behind a statue, trying to avoid the worst of the wind whistling up the river. Gusty spurts of rain made the exposed streets of Tirah even more unpleasant. The Irist, the city's principal waterway, was running high and dangerous this winter; and its surrounds were dark and treacherous.
A hundred yards upriver lay the Temple of Death, Mihn's destination. Like most temples, this one was adjoined by the clerical quarters and offices. The temple was built like an enormous cross marking the location of buried treasure on a map. It occupied a large stretch of prime waterfront, and had converted the buildings on either side of the temple itself to more secular activities or rented them out to merchants.
This ensured there was sufficient wealth to properly welcome their unusually large crop of penitents, while many of the actual temple staff – devotees, priests and novices – had been moved further south. Only the principal residence of the high priest remained; a modestly sized palace that nestled in the crook of two arms of the temple cross and retained the fine river views lost by those less devoted to their God. It meant there were fewer people around to catch Mihn when he finally left the statue's shadow to break in.