Chapter 82
It was cold. He hurt. Tentative exploration told him n o bones were broken, the King had spared him that much, but his shorn head was battered, his flesh was split, he was bruised and b****y. His groping fingers felt rough walls, a rough floor, loose rocks. He sat up, slowly, but encountered no obstacle, there was empty space between himself and the cave’s rock ceiling. He looked again at the hole through which he had fallen. Through which the King had led him to fall. Why am I here, King? What is your desiring? The King did not answer, its voice was silent and its smoke disappeared. He breathed alone now, his wits were his own. The cave’s darkness was oppressive. It swaddled him like a baby’s blanket, crushed him to the floor. He lay down again, skinned knees tucked against his bare
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