He slept for eleven hours and woke up feeling like a different problem.
The physical accounting was straightforward enough. Three weeks of dungeon food and dimensional water and sleeping on reflective ground that recorded your position but didn't do anything about the hardness had left him with the kind of comprehensive soreness that only revealed its full scope once you were somewhere soft enough to notice it. He lay still for a few minutes, taking stock of the individual complaints before deciding collectively they were manageable and getting up.
He showered for a long time. The hot water ran out, and he stood in the cold for a while because it seemed appropriate, some residual instinct from the Record's interior where temperature had been a constant consideration. Then he got out and
