They halted a few feet from the brink of the fiery precipice. By the light of the priest's torch Polaris saw that the rock floor had been cut away into a runway, or chute, at a sharp angle from the floor level, notching the edge of the declivity and ending sharply in the empty air of the great pit. The sides of the trough glittered like polished glass in the light rays.
One of the priests disappeared into the nearest of the stone buildings and came out bearing a disk of dark wood. It was concaved and not much larger than a warrior's shield, which indeed it much resembled, for within it were two loops of rope or thong, which might have served for armholds. The priest set it down near the upper end of the channel in the rock.
More torches hung in cressets along the wall were lighted, their flames reflecting from thousands of little veins and flecks of metal in the rock, and heightening the eery effect of the strange scene.
When these preparations were completed, Kalin stepped forth on the ledge. He was garbed in a flowing robe of flame-red, his head hidden in a veiled hood, of which the section that covered his face was white.
He stepped in front of the waiting man and raised his hand in a solemn salute.
"Chloran, son of Sardon; thou hast come to the Gate?" he asked.
"Aye, priest," answered Chloran.
"Thy house is in order, thy farewells made, thy work done?"
"Aye, Chloran stands ready."
"Then thou comest content to the temple of the Lord Hephaistos?"