Abruptly he stopped, leaving Vredech with his hands thrown wide, expectant. ‘You’re no drummer, Priest. But there’s hope for anyone with music in him.’ His eyes were sparkling and his face flushed. Vredech smiled broadly, as though this were considerable praise. Then he saw that the Whistler was motioning him to turn around. As he did so, a strange sensation under his feet drew his eyes downwards. He was standing on grass! And he was casting a shadow across it!
He looked up.
At first he could not make out what he was looking at, so used had he become to the world of shadows in which he and the Whistler were conversing. Then he saw that he was standing on a hillside and looking across a broad, rolling landscape towards a distant sky, red with the light of a setting sun.
‘Where...?’
‘Shh
