Passing through the shattered inner wall of the flooded water chute, Qiao Ming and Yan Zhiqiu stepped into an oasis of pure, calm beauty: Entry hall 705, the Chamber of the Cleansing Basins. The air here was cool, moist, and wonderfully sweet, fully free of forge soot, stone oil, and sulfur. The vaulted ceiling, carved from pure white crystal-clear limestone, was covered in slender stalactites that cried a nonstop shower of clear, fresh spring water.
In the center of the hall, carved directly into a natural shelf of white marble, were three cascading pools of crystal-clear water. The upper pool received the drips from the limestone ceiling. The water overflowed through fluted marble lips into the second pool, and from there trickled into the third basin before draining into an underground aqueduct leading toward the deep forge.
Qiao Ming stopped at the edge of the first basin, kneeling upon the wet marble flags. He set down his horn lantern and dipped both hands into the clear pool. The water was cool—neither freezing like the outer seawater nor hot like the earth-heat vents—carrying a crisp, bitter-salt sweetness that tasted of dissolved white spar-stone and ancient mountain rain.
He brought a handful of water to his lips, drinking deeply. The pure water washed away the dry, bitter sulfur that had coated his throat since entering the foundries, sending a wave of clean, stone life-force through his chest. He lowered his face into the pool, washing the dark hematite dust and salt crusts…
