And then the chill, the inexplicable chill that you find sometimes in old monasteries, rained churches, haunted rooms.
I stopped and rubbed the backs of my arms with my hands. The chill was rising through the steps.
"They don't cause it," he said gently. He was waiting for me on the steps just below.
The semidarkness broke his face into kindly patterns of light and shadow, gave the illusion of mortal age that wasn't there.
"It was here long before I brought them," he said. "Many have come to worship on this island. Maybe it was there before they came, too."
He beckoned to me again with his characteristic patience. His eyes were compassionate.
"Don't be afraid," he said again as he started down.
I was ashamed not to follow. The steps went on and on.
We came on larger portals and the
