Sarven watches with that focused stillness of his. He watches the cavern mouth for threats in the same way. It’s the look he gives to anything that might save or kill someone he cares about.
Including, apparently, my strange little experiments.
Including, unfortunately, fingering me senseless against cave walls.
My cheeks heat at the memory. I shove it ruthlessly away.
Not the time, Mikaela.
The water dries fast because of the heat. As the drops in my charcoal circles evaporate, they leave behind a residue.
“See?” I point at the ring.
The unfiltered circle has left a distinct reddish-brown crust.
“The contamination is here,” I say. “It’s the bloom. The heat in this cavern is cooking the water, waking up the bacteria, and then sending it down the pipes.”
Sarven leans in and inhales near the drying circles. His nose wrinkles; his lip lifts a little from his fangs.
“Bad,” he says simply. “Rot.”
“Very bad,” I agree.
I rock back on my heels and look around properly.
The shaft of light. The still pool turned gold where it hits. The split in the far wall where the inflow gushes out, and the dark channels at the far side where the outflow vanishes into the rock.
That split is where we need to look.
“Help me up?” I ask, nodding toward the far wall.
His hand is on mine before I finish the question, warm and strong as he lifts me easily to my feet.
We walk the curve of the pool together, my shoes scuffing softly on the damp stone.
The inflow is even more impressive up close. Water bursts from a vertical crack with force, falling in a short sheet into the pool. The stream feeding it must come from somewhere deeper within the mountain, hidden behind stone.
I lean in as far as I dare, peering into the narrow throat.
It pinches down quickly. There’s no path, no usable crawlspace. Just water and rock.
And heat.
Waves of it roll out of that crack like breath from a dragon.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
Sarven makes a questioning sound, head tipping.
“The source,” I explain, pointing to the crack. “The heat is coming from in there. We can’t reach it. Whatever is cooking the mountain is buried too deep.”
I trail my fingers through the falling water and bring them to my nose. The sharp smell is stronger here, almost a metallic sting, like old coins and something chemical.
“It’s biological,” I say, confirming my theory. “The heat wakes it up. The water carries it out.”
Sarven watches me, following maybe one word in five, but following me all the same.
“Sorry,” I sigh. “Thinking out loud. The point is, we can’t fix the heat. Not today. Not without mining equipment.”
