Xanadu can be hard to move around if you’re not its master, or a guest. The place itself seems to get in the way… doors open into the corridor you just left, gardens contain archways leading directly outside, staircases that leave one three or four stories from where one started. As long as we all stayed together, I wasn’t worried. I could travel to the throne room with my eyes shut. Indeed, if it were possible to manipulate space/time in such a way, I’d ask Sylvia to place us in the throne room; sadly, the place actively worked against that particular gift. I didn’t want us to end up in a flowerpot on the outer wall.

I pondered and plotted as we walked, and started to notice something missing – the monks. They tended this place since before Kublai Khan. The subtle sound of their chants, the flapping of the prayer flags – all were silent. Occasionally we’d hear the wind moan outside, but indoors our footsteps were the only sound.

I called a halt at the entrance to the Chamber of Robing, to plan and rest.