Chapter TwelveThat crack on the skull sent me into a nightmare from which I wakened to find reality infinitely worse. I misremember the details of my bad dream, but I know that they included the sack of Elgin and the sacrifice on the Moor of Garnish, but they paled into complete insignificance when I recovered my consciousness. At first I did not know where I was, or what I was doing, but I knew that things were wrong, and then gradually I understood and I nearly screamed in fear.
I was hanging upside down, chained by ankles and wrists in stygian darkness, with strange rustlings all around.
“Where am I?” I asked, trying to twist myself upright against the bite of iron.
“Back home, Ill Will.” The voice was sweet as honey dripping from the fangs of an adder, except that any snake would be
