At the southern edge of Entry hall 098, the great floor of the Ark narrowed toward the High Meridian Prow. A huge three-sided castle wall of solid granite that projected into the deep-sea deep gap like the cutwater of a huge sea-going vessel.
From this vantage point, seventy deep-water lengths above the floor of the Great Silt Plaza, the entire three-mile length of the underground safe hall was visible in a single, panoramic vista.
Looking northward, the Grand Cross-hall was a shimmering sea of golden light. Ten thousand four hundred and eighty floating lanterns turned in their vast, peaceful gyre, casting their amber reflections against the soaring white columns and the mica ceiling rosettes. Along the eighty tiers of stone seating, forty-eight thousand hearths glowed with quiet, steady warmth, their smoke long since carried away through the high air-flow chimney pipes. Three million mortals slept or kept quiet vigil in the embrace of fourteen hundred and twenty underwater guardians and eight thousand dry giant statues.
Qiao Ming stood at the total apex of the granite prow.
The cold air of the deep ocean draft blew upward from the deep gap, whipping the tails of his amber oilskin coat around his calves. His bare calloused feet were planted firmly upon the chiselled spirit vein marker. A groove cut into the granite three inches wide, inlaid with silver and mother-of-pearl, indicating the exact north-south axis of the land-wide shelf.
