From without, the Chamber—more commonly known as the Chamber of Solomon, and Father Fishy can have a point in his favour for knowing better than to call it that—is like a great wooden egg lying half-sunk into the floor. It is segmented, so that it can be taken apart for transport, but the joins are very fine indeed. You have to get within a hand’s span before you can see them without a lens. The wood is dark and old and dense. It must have been monstrous to work it to this smoothness. I can smell beeswax and resin, but no damp. When I touch it, the surface is cool, almost as if it were metal instead; when I take my hand away, there’s a faint outline of condensation. I want to taste it with my lips. I think it would be salty, dry and wet at the same time, like Pecorino with oil.