The river veered first right, then left, and seemed to be descending in a strange, irregular spiral through the rock on which the vampyre's castle rested. It ran down, ever down, through an endless series of natural chambers. Some were huge and wide, filled with curtains and columns, and pointed pedestals of crystal lime. Others were long and low, more tunnels than chambers. In one, there was an opening in the wall through which she could see the stars. In their pale light and the brighter, warmer glow of the river, she saw that this was the haven of the bats. They flew in and out of the opening and through the cave like silver moths, and many of them clung to the walls and ceilings, like a mass of withered leaves. Their twittering, what she could hear of it, was high and wild and airy thin. Aeriel laughed and was surprised to hear how thick and deep her voice sounded next to theirs. Another chamber, hours later, farther down into the heart of the mountain, was latticed with silver combs dripping honey like liquid amber.
