Corpses. Seated, somehow, draped in warm clothing. He passed the first row of them and looked in on frozen faces, shriveled with the passing of time but remarkably well preserved. Each held a mask in its lap. They sat in four concentric rings, looking at the light up ahead. Here, the ones who had built this place had died. Then how . . . how had word of the key to the door been passed on. . . .
