The cave was enormous. The size of a cathedral. The ceiling was high — a hundred feet, the stone arching, the rock carved by water and time. The walls were wet. The algae glowed — blue-green, the light soft, the illumination coming from everywhere and nowhere. The floor was stone — smooth, worn, the surface of a cave that had been occupied for centuries.
The pool.
In the center. A pool of water. Not sea water. Fresh water. Hot. The steam rose. The mineral smell — sulfur, iron, the earthy scent of geothermal water — filled the cave. The pool was large. Fifty feet across. The water was clear. The bottom was visible — stone, smooth, the minerals depositing in layers of color.
She was there.
On the floor. Beside the pool. Not in the water. On the stone. On a bed of silk and furs that had been laid out. Her body was—
Raven stopped.
He looked.
Her body was enormous.
