For he would be able to see it, he knew.
But instead, his eyes met those of the face carved on the keystone of the arch that spanned the entrance to the Pits. They seemed to reach out and embrace him. At their touch, he felt the sense of oppression lifting from him, or rather, being lifted from him by some unknown agency and replaced by one of elation. And the grip about his chest was gone too.
‘Are you...’
Rinter began his question for the third time. He continued shaking Pinnatte’s arm.
‘Yes, thank you,’ Pinnatte said, putting his hand over Rinter’s reassuringly to still it. ‘Just felt a bit dizzy for a moment. The crush, I expect.’
But his mind was racing, and he could not stop staring at the face. How could he have come here so many times and never noticed anything so beautiful? T
