The miasmic glow faded, my strength slowly recovered, and my senses quickly cleared. Having said that, I was weak and nauseous for several minutes, and would gladly have been given time in which to properly recover, but the volva was having none of it, as she snatched up the black pentagram from where I had dropped it and waved it before my eyes, while her own shot daggers.
“Where did you get this?” she asked, or rather interrogated, me. “This is not of this world. It is suffused with evil. Either you are an ignorant fool, or you must desire death greatly to carry this to the draug. Tell me where you got it.”
“For pity’s sake, leave him be,” protested Dr. Alcott, to little effect. “What does it matter now? The thing’s dead enough... touch wood.”
“This symbol came from a Maere machine. W
