In a body

The walls of the vein were long dry — wrinkled, shriveled, and petrified, resulting in a surface that would almost have been easier to climb, at least at an angle, than to walk.

Unfortunately, the dead god's bier was flatter than Kansas (and wouldn't that be an interesting simile to try to explain, I thought briefly), so we were stuck trudging through the "tunnel" on foot.

"At least it hasn't collapsed," I murmured, half unaware. Dovan flinched as I said it — he'd been ill at ease the entire way — and made a sign with his left hand that I'd come to recognize as a ward against ill fortune. I realized I'd said it aloud, and also flinched, though in my case out of embarrassment at my faux pas rather than any real fear. "Yeah," I said, and shook my head. "Any idea how much farther?"

"As far as it is," he snapped. "Why do you humans ask such useless questions?"

I blinked. "Well, I can't speak for anyone else, or even myself at any other time, but right now it's because if I'm making meaningless conversation it keeps me from thinking. Which means it keeps me specifically from thinking about how unutterably screwed we probably are, since, really, that's the only thing there is to think about until we get there."

Dovan didn't say anything to that for a long moment, as we passed another vein joining the inferior vena cava. "So," he said, with discernable forced cheer, "what's the weather like where you come from?"

I snrked. Possibly no dwarf had ever asked that question honestly. I tried to keep it interesting. "Hot and humid. I live near the coast, almost on flood plains. The soil's really porous, so you can't really build underground..."