It started, as all really good stories do, with a scream. Now this is where the temple warden suffers for his or her role. They are forced by fate and the need to present an unflinching face to the world to take the initiative. So where a lesser mortal can say, conversationally, to a neighbour, “Was that a scream? Somebody ought to see what is going on,” the temple warden is the one who has to see what is going on.
The scream came from a corridor leading into the main hall of the shrine. Almost immediately after the scream a mendicant fled out of the corridor and hid itself amongst the other assembled mendicants. Given that even with a cursory inspection I would have noticed dripping blood or similar, it struck me that the mendicant was doubtless neither a victim nor an assailant. So cautiously I ventured down the…