15 The Morning SongJARTHASTRA'S PARTY WENT THROUGH many secret ways, passing high windows that betrayed the rising dawn. At length, they emerged from an inconspicuous porch that opened beneath the Shrine’s great bronze doors above the court that had seen the atrocities of the night before. Behind them was Na-veshtrazhdak’s tower and near them the curving mass of the Shrine reared up. Its vast, golden dome was set against withdrawing night and was showing a pale reflection of the dim, grey morning. Across from it, Arna’s golden image picked up the first trails of light. It was the time that was no time, neither night nor day, and the court below lay in an unnatural, unreal stillness. A chill breeze made the unnecessary torches dance, and the priests tugged their robes around them. Despite t
