By the time the consecration ceremony has finished, the sun has started to slip down the western slope of the temple's new terracotta roof.
Pesna stands in the cool shade of an overhang, accepting praise from the nobles filing out and trying not to look distracted by the theft of his most prized possession.
'A memorable service…'
'A genuine privilege and honour to be here…'
'Such a gifted young netsvis…'
The compliments trip lightly off their tongues. But all he can think of are the Gates of Destiny.
Who could have taken them?
Kavie is talking to some Perusians. Perhaps him?
Larth is waiting impatiently with his chariot. Him?
Caele is flirting with Hercha, toying with a curl of her hair. Him? Her? Both of them?
The sculptress Tetia is deep in discussion with Larthuza the Healer. Her? Him?
And then there is the netsvis. The crippled priest who today put on the service of a lifetime. A performance so perfect you could even doubt that he was blind. Him?
Kavie appears at Pesna's side and motions to Larth and the waiting chariot. 'We should make haste. It would serve us well to go ahead of our guests and be at the mine to greet them.'
The magistrate looks nervous. 'Are the gifts ready?'
'They are. There is choice enough for everyone. Even the greediest will find their avarice sated.'
Pesna glances again at Teucer. 'Have the netsvis searched. Thoroughly! Strip him naked.'
Kavie looks confused. 'Why?'
'The Gates of Destiny are gone.'
'What?'
'Gone! I personally placed them on the table of gifts for his blessing.'
Kavie looks around. He sees nothing suspicious. 'When did they go missing?'
'Only moments before the ceremony started. The temple was empty – fully guarded outside – and only I was afforded access. He must have hidden them during the service, and now he no doubt intends to steal away and sell them somewhere to build a new life with that damned sculptress.'
'I will have Larth's men do it now. I'll get the temple searched, too, in case they're hidden in there somewhere.' By the time Larth returns from instructing his men to deal with Teucer, Pesna and Kavie are already inside the chariot.
'Make haste!' shouts the magistrate. 'It will be discourteous if we are not there before the parties of nobles.'
The driver obediently whips the stallions and dust kicks up as Larth leaps aboard.
'Cut across the decumanus,' he commands. 'It is a less comfortable ride, but far quicker.'
The route quickly becomes rutted. It amuses Larth to think of his noble employer behind him, being jolted till his teeth rattle.
It isn't long before Kavie shouts an objection. 'Be careful! We are weathering a storm back here.'
Larth's throaty laugh is lost beneath the thunder of hooves.
Then it happens.
The front right horse loses its footing.
The driver pulls hard on the reins.
The other three beasts lose their line.
A wheel cracks on a rock.
Larth tumbles from the board. Crashes headlong into a bank of scree and boulders.
A cloud of dust billows in ominous silence for several seconds.
Pesna slowly emerges from the wreckage, unhurt but furious.
He stares at Larth and the driver, both of whom are picking themselves off the ground, bloodied and bruised. 'Idiots! Blundering idiots!' He kicks the driver in the kidneys, then turns on Larth. 'Look! Look! The spokes are completely broken. It's useless!' He pushes the sole of a sandal against the shattered wheel. 'How am I to reach the mine with my carriage in pieces?'
Kavie bends and helps Larth to his feet. 'Let me see into your eye, Larth. Keep still, it has half a roadway in there.'
Larth brushes him away. 'It is nothing. Let me examine the chariot.' He steps across the boulders on to the rough track. One look at the damage is enough to tell him that the wheel cannot be fixed and will need changing. 'Take the horses, Magistrate.' He addresses the petrified driver. 'Unbridle them. The back two will be best. Get a move on or I'll do more than kick you!' He looks to Kavie and Pesna. 'I will send this old fool for a new wheel. When I have fixed it, I'll drive it back.'
Kavie turns to the magistrate. 'Larth is right. We are but moments from the mine by horseback. We should do as he says.'
Pesna's temper is still boiling. The broken carriage has merely compounded his fury about the missing silverware. He slaps Larth across his bleeding face. 'You brainless ox. All you had to do was steer four horses in a line. There are whores who could have done what I asked of you.' He sweeps his hand to hit Larth again, but the big man grabs it as if he were catching a fly.
Larth glares at him. An unblinking look of pure menace. He could kill him in a second, and wants to.
Kavie, fearing the worst, steps forward and puts himself between the two men. 'Larth, my friend, remember your position. Pull yourself together.'
Blood is trickling down Larth's face. He loosens his grip on Pesna's crushed hand. 'It is good advice, Kavie. I thank you.' He picks up the reins of the stallion and passes them to Pesna. 'Magistrate, I offer my apologies and beg your forgiveness. I pray the rest of your journey is untroubled.'
Pesna says nothing. He snatches the reins, mounts the horse and spins it into a dusty gallop towards the horizon.
Larth watches the sandy cloud swirl skyward and congratulates himself for his restraint. He will kill Pesna.
Not now.
Not yet.
But soon.