The Carved Cave

Polly dropped back down the face of the cliff to where it meets the sea. There, at the waterline, a dark mouth opened in the rock: the Cova Tallada, the carved cave, part cavern and part abandoned workshop.

Inside, the walls rose improbably flat and true. Centuries ago, quarrymen cut the stone out by hand, block after block, and hauled it away by boat. The bite of their tools is still printed in the rock, as crisp as if they had downed chisels a week ago.

All around her the stone gave off a warm, golden glow. Half the chamber was solid rock; the other half was sea, clear and blue, breathing gently in and out of the cave with each swell.

Light poured through the entrance and scattered itself across water and walls in restless patterns. Polly pressed a wing against the cool stone, fixing its colour in her memory. Golden rock, she thought, was worth remembering.