They passed Missus Woadmell, half-cowering in the doorway, and proceeded to the spiral stairwell. Although the sweep of steps was large and broad, the steps themselves were relatively shallow, so that Dapplegrim did have some trouble getting down them. Samakarantha gave him an arch look, but Dapplegrim just rolled his eyes and snorted, persisting with his awkward, careful placement of hooves on the stone.
As such, they arrived at the floor after a rather slow descent.
It took so long to arrive, that Samakarantha had started to grow a little seedling of suspicion even as they descended. From about half-way up, he was able to see that there was a light coming through the archway, far below, and it was not the ghost-light of a moon, nor the silver-stain glow of stars. The light was thoroughly golden, rich and warm in its appearance.
Odd, he thought to himself. Odd.
Then, the air began to feel warmer. More soft. As if a summer’s day had crept out of the grey and wintry air outside, and had nestled down in the earth below them to await the turn of the seasons.
“You said this was a night-temple?” said Dapplegrim after a time.
“You’ve noticed it too?” Samakarantha couldn’t think of anything to do but keep moving down the stairs.
When at last they found the stone floor and walked through the arched stone portal, and onto the open space of the temple, all three of them stopped dead, stared about, and said not a word.
The temple had changed.
No longer were the standing stones gritty silvery-grey things. They were a blue-grey shade full of ripples of colour, something like a blue quartzite perhaps, but also ribboned with gold. The floor was cut from malachite and polished to a high sheen. Above them, the dome was not a depiction of grey clouds, moon and stars, but was now a mosaic of a bright, wide day-lit sky: lapis lazuli, turquoise, azurite and aquamarine spangled the dome. In the exact azimuth a huge sun made from gold leaf, amber, citrine and various shades of red-orange-yellow jasper. There was a warmth in the air that seemed to come from the sun itself. No torches, candles or braziers burned. The light also came down from the mosaic sun by some charmed art that defied Samakarantha’s lore. He could only stare and wonder at the artisanal power that had been invested in the place.
Dapplegrim swooshed his tail. His hooves made slight clicking noises as he wheeled himself about to get a good look at it all. “Hur. Strangest damned night-temple I’ve ever seen.”