The cavern had been a ventilation junction once. The original Pallid engineers had carved it wide and low, with a domed ceiling ribbed by natural quartz veins that caught lamplight and threw it back in pale, scattered lines. Someone had hung oil lanterns from iron hooks driven into the ribs. The light was uneven, warm in pockets and deep shadow between, and it made the faces of the forty-odd people seated on the stone floor look ancient.
Tarn Vossk stood at the center of the room. He used no platform, letting the bare stone floor serve as his pulpit.
