* * * *
For some time after the lid was placed I was left to savour this situation, but the following brief, turbulent trip that presumably delivered me to the back of the cart, and a long journey in that pitching, rattling vehicle ensured both my consciousness and my agony. From the motions and bruises I received, I could guess that not only were our coffins poorly secured in the back of the cart, but that the streets of Alexigrad were not as well-maintained as the State Press would have us believe. I can venture few other opinions on that city. What little I heard of human activity through my bindings and the continual din of cartwheels was an indistinguishable babble. Considering that confinement, darkness, noise and pain, I could well believe that if Hel obeyed the traditions of mytho
