The place was empty now, even the corpse of the Khan had gone, and no draped Oracle sat in the altar shrine, for its silver curtains were drawn, and we saw that it was untenanted.
"The Mother has departed to do honour to the dead, according to the ancient custom," Oros explained to us.
Then we passed the altar, and behind the statue found a door in the rock wall of the apse, and beyond the door a passage, and a hall as of a house, for out of it opened other doors leading to chambers.

These, our guide told us, were the dwelling-places of the Hesea and her maidens.
He added that they ran to the side of the Mountain and had windows that opened on to gardens and let in the light and air.

In this hall six priests were waiting, each of whom carried a bundle of torches beneath his arm and held in his hand a lighted lamp.
"Our road runs through the dark," said Oros, "though were it day we might climb the outer snows, but this at night it is dangerous to do." Then taking torches, he lit them at a lamp and gave one to each of us.
Now our climb began.

Up endless sloping galleries we went, hewn with inconceivable labour by the primeval fire-worshippers from the living rock of the Mountain.

It seemed to me that they stretched for miles, and indeed this was so, since, although the slope was always gentle, it took us more than an hour to climb them.