“Have you ever seen a behemoth?” Jurat asked from below.

Luthr puzzled over the question as he checked his rope. “Is this another test?”. He gripped his rope in both hands and swung down, then lowered himself down the short chasm, minding Jurat’s warning of the sharp rocks that sprang out of the wall from shadowy spaces.

“A test if you’ve seen a behemoth,” Jurat replied with half a laugh.

“Sure,” Luthr replied. “I’ve seen lots of them. There are several skeletons at the museum in the capital, and there’s statues in the old temples, which I visited when I was a boy. And there are paintings of them in old books, and some children still play with behemoth toys. And of course, there was old Belisarius. But he was only half behemoth.” He reached the end of the rope and dropped to the cavern floor. “Have you seen one?”

Jurat grinned. “There’s one in the final chamber of this cavern.”

“So, they’re a subterranean creature? I never knew.”

“This wasn’t always a cavern. You’ll see.”

And see he dod, though not when he expected. Here and there fluted columns would burst upward from the ground, at times broken partway. Luthr gathered that they were in what must have been a rich city, but his jaw went slack when at last he saw the height of the columns. Even their impressive girth could not have readied him for the immensity of the ruins. They walked along a deep gash in the stone, and his eyes were drawn by bright lights dancing over a a swift river. In the glow of the fireflies, he saw the base of the columns nearly one hundred feet down, but as he craned his neck to look upward, he gasped, as they stretched upward another hundred feet at least. There the roof of the cavern was worn away enough to reveal that they had been walking for two days around the outside of a truly vast palace.

“What kingdom was this?”

Jurat laughed. “I doubt its name would mean anything to you. But it was the dominant realm long ago. It was called Provosa, and its people spread their wings across the stars so long ago their origins have been forgotten.”

“Are they our ancestors?”

“Aha! You’ve touched on a great mystery. Some would say yes, but I think they left this world before our brand of humanity arrived.”

“Arrived…” the word hung in the air, and spiraling out of it came memories. Luthr learned as a boy from the finest tutors his family could afford, and as his older siblings joined with the roots of Iyegas he felt more and more drive to excel. He rose above the hopes of all his elder relations and became a Iudex at a very young age, having surpassed every conscripted soldier of his generation. By thirty years old he outranked those who had trained him, and he took the hand of a noble woman with no complaint from her parents.

“Arrived…” he repeated vacantly. It was hotly debated, and those who embraced the notion were called heretics by the academic zealotry. What he could not recall was where he stood on the matter, though it seemed right that his son and daughter-in-law had somewhat liberal leanings.

“I’ve encountered a number of strange origin theories since His Grace began taking people in.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Luthr replied, walking carefully as his gaze was locked upward.

“This way,” said Jurat. He dropped off a boulder and seemed to disappear.

Luthr stepped to the edge and looked down. There was a wide landing in between two long flights of stairs. Luthr leapt after Jurat, then followed him downward.

“We’re not going up?” He asked.

“No. The ground is too broken up on the upper level. There is a place down here the Provosans seemed to view as sacred… well, special at least.”

They walked for some time, finding the bottom of the stairs and leaving the broken palace behind. Signs of Provosan architecture began to appear again after they stopped for lunch, and Luthr continued in awe of the sheer enormity of it all. Flying buttresses that would have reached Iyegas’s lower boughs, vestibules larger than the houses of his wealthiest friends, and flagstones half the size of a city plaza were the mere remains of these bygones.

“They were of a similar nature to ours,” he said as they passed a house that bore remnants of furniture.

“Yes, though noticeably smaller. They were susceptible to illness, as well.”

“Truly?”

“I’ve found the wreckage of clinics, with some of their instruments intact. They were quite advanced. If you run your hand along their structures, you’ll notice they used building materials that were not metal, wood or stone.”

He did so and was baffled by the smooth texture and extreme durability of the ruins.

“This city must be incredibly old.”

“Quite,” said Jurat.

Again, they left ruins behind and walked through the raw caverns, and then Luthr was in awe of their size, but before he could find words to express his feelings they came upon a domed coliseum.

Jurat led Luthr to a door in the circular building and took hold of its strange handle. The edges of the door glimmered softly and the building itself seemed to stir, humming softly like a mother animal.

Jurat stopped and suddenly turned. “I’m trusting you, Luthr. Don’t make me regret it.”

Luthr nodded, apprehensive, but determined not to lose his composure as he had before. While many details of his life remained uncertain, he had been developing a sense of professionalism, and regretted the scene he made.

Jurat finished turning the handle, and the lights lining the door grew bright. There was a soft breeze, and they were standing before an open space. Luthr followed Jurat very slowly, his head on a swivel.

The coliseum was filled with dense foliage. He could not recognize any species of tree or plant, as they were of brighter colors than he was accustomed to. The growth seemed to cover every surface, and there were creatures moving beneath its canopy.

When Luthr eventually looked ahead of himself he stopped for a moment. Some ways ahead still, there was a clearing where the bare floor still showed. In that space was a skull the size of a bull elephant.

“I told you,” Jurat said joyfully.

Luthr stopped when he came close to the behemoth’s remains. Its tusks, longer than ship’s oars, curved gracefully down from its jaws, forming an arch over Luthr’s head as grand as the columns of the palace. And the three eye sockets, cavernous and deep, had become a den for an optryx and her fledgling brood.

Luthr felt the smooth bone as he walked around it, imagining what the proud beast it belonged to must have looked like.

“The legend was true,” said Jurat.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t name your hound after a fabled behemoth. You named him after this behemoth.”

“No. No. Those are children’s stories. I mean, this was certainly an enormous animal, but it was just an animal. It didn’t lead people to war against a devil from the stars and give a sacred mission to statues blessed with life.”

“So certain.”

Luthr looked at Jurat impatiently. “There are wonders down here to be sure, but don’t think my amnesia gives you license to insult me.”

Jurat was about to speak when another voice echoed from the far end. It was a gentle voice, and old, with a softness borne from wisdom.

Luthr followed Jurat to the back of the skull and then he could see a dais of minty green crystal. On the dais was a throne, and on the throne was a small, wizened figure in royal garments that had faded almost to grey.

“Give him time, Jurat,” said the old figure.

Luthr followed Jurat to the man, and though he sat there alone, not surrounded by court or servantry, Luthr felt the instinct to kneel and bow.

“May I present Iudex Luthr, Your Grace.”

“Your Grace,” said Luthr.

“Luthr Deux Archima,” said Prince Einsof. “You don’t need to bow to me. You’re my brother’s man. Save your obeisance for him.”

His rebuke was gentle, grandfatherly, and Luthr felt grateful for it. He stood reverently and looked with a strange fondness for this exiled stranger, though he knew that were he to be in the man’s company without his king’s decree, his life would be forfeit. In fact, his memory cleared on the matter as he stood there. The law was so strict, that King Rommel had forbidden even martial acts against the prince, and if his agents should be encountered afield, then they were to be avoided altogether unless they attacked, and then they were to be slain or allowed to escape, but never bound or imprisoned.

“Well,” said Prince Einsof, “I don’t want to bother his conscious, Jurat. We should return him to his dwelling.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Despite the prince’s admonition, Luthr bowed again. He took note of that end of the coliseum, quickly, as they turned to leave. What he had taken for foliage was in fact fungal, and the wall behind the prince was alive with glowing fronds of every bright color and a plumage of fleshy blue sporophytes. That central growth spread across much of the wall, with a large fan of mushroom caps at the peak as large as Belesarius’s skull.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were taking me to the prince?” Luthr asked when they stood outside the coliseum.

Jurat looked at him silently.

“I don’t like being tested.”

“You were unkindled, Luthr. You were found naked in a swamp, waving a cudgel over your head and rambling obscenities and blasphemy. I will continue to test you until I am convinced that you are lucid and whole.”

Luthr sighed, then nodded. “Very well.”

“You did very well. Remarkably well. It was the prince’s idea to keep you in the dark, but only because he wanted me to be free to decide whether or not the meeting would be ideal. Had you not shown such presence of mind, I would have simply shown you around the ruins and brought you back up.”

“I understand.”

“Good. His Grace is very shy, and his body is very fragile. I showed you a great deal of trust. And you proved yourself worthy of it. Thank you, Luthr. Now, can we get you back into your house? Your neighbors have already begun to miss the game you brought in.”

Luthr nodded, then spoke. “Will I be able to visit His Grace again?”

“You wish to?”

“Yes.”

“For the sake of your standing, should you return home, it would be better if you didn’t.”

“I realize that, but...”

“I think it best we listen to His Grace and be patient. You made several large leaps these last two days. Go back to your house, live something of a life, and let your mind heal. Any whims you feel until your mind is clean and whole will be influenced by confusion and fear.”

“I understand.” Luthr’s voice was grave, and as he spoke, he began to see a clearing in the fog. “I think I’m beginning to see what you’re trying to do for me.”

Jurat studied him intently. “Yes,” he said with a spreading grin. His eyes, bright as as stars, shined like glass in the dim light of the cavern. “Yes, Luthr. I think you are as well.”