“I’ve seen that mark before,” the commander said.
He looked down at the girl. Her hand was still on the stone.
“I was standing right where you are.”
The guards nearest the pillar tightened their grip on their spears. Above them, the golden lines turned slowly in the clouds. From the balcony they looked like a single mark. From where the girl stood, she could see that each line curved back toward the same point, somewhere beneath the sand.
“What did you do when you saw it?” she asked.
“I took my hand away.”
She waited for him to order her to do the same. Instead, he came down the stairs. By the time he reached the arena floor, the crowd had fallen quiet enough for her to hear his armor shift with each step.
“There used to be a gate here,” he said. “People could cross into the city without passing the garrison. When the old council sealed it, they told us the stone would never answer again. I knew they were wrong. I let them seal it anyway.”
The girl looked at the guards, then at the people behind her. Among them was a woman who had been waiting outside the city walls for three days to see her son.
“Where does it open?” the girl asked.
The commander pointed beneath his own balcony.
She pressed her palm flat against the stone. A seam appeared in the wall where he had pointed. Sand spilled out as the two halves drew apart. On the other side stood a boy, squinting in the sudden light.
The woman behind her called his name. One of the guards glanced at the commander. He lowered his spear and stepped aside.
Only then did the girl lift her hand. The light went out, and the gate stayed open.