'So, we meet again,' said Count Otto Black. 'And so soon.'
'I thought that,' I said. And the Count glared at me through his one seeing eye. 'No offence meant,' I continued. 'And you,' spat the Count, 'you who did this to me.' And he pointed to his eye-patch. And I said that I was sorry.
'Sorry?' The Count did some maniacal laughing. He was good at that, the Count. 'You will know what sorry means, I can assure you of that.'
'I already know what it means,' I said. 'Do not trouble yourself with any demonstrations.'
Count Otto Black now grinned heartily at Mr Rune. 'How does this suit you?' he asked. 'I recall how upon our last meeting you told me that the difference between you and me was twofold – that I was evil and you were good, but that you understood how / thought, and not the other way about. What think you now upon this, Mister Rune? You walked straight into my trap, led here by your own vanity. You just had to see yourself burned in effigy. How sad is that?'
Mr Rune leaned upon his stout stick and breathed in rarefied air. I hoped that he might come out with some snappy James Bond-style rejoinder, but sadly, he did not. He just stood and stared at Count Otto Black.
'Lost for words?' crowed the Count. 'The Great Hugo Rune? Logos of the Aeon, the All-Knowing One, the Cosmic Dick. Rune, whose eye is in the triangle, whose nose cuts through the ether, whose ear takes in the music of the spheres. Whose arse takes up three seats on the Clapham omnibus. Nothing to say at all?'
The firelight lit upon Mr Rune's great face, for now we stood close to that fire. I thought to detect a look of gloom. Was this the look of defeat?
'Just one thing,' said Hugo Rune. 'Perhaps you would be so kind as to enlighten me, before you cast me into the flames?' 'My pleasure,' said Count Otto Black. 'Speak on.'
'Through my sacrifice you will learn the location of the Chronovision, am I correct?'
The Count stepped forward, rootled in my pockets and drew out my Ordnance Survey map. I might have put up a struggle over this, but a pirate had a pistol trained upon me. The Count unfolded the map, then held it up to the sky. 'You are aware as to how it works, Rune,' said he. 'You are a magician, as I am. One gives in order to receive something in return. My Master cannot pass through the barrier that separates His dimension from this. But if I offer Him something he desires – your soul, Rune – then for an instant He can make Himself manifest in this dimension, and at that moment He will point out the location of that of which both you and I speak. It is your desire to find it that is the catalyst.'
'And so upon the very moment of my death, this knowledge will be granted to you?'
'The Gods are out there,' said Count Otto Black, 'all of the Gods, just beyond the veil, out there in the ether. They all crave power. Some of them have held power upon Earth, only to be overturned by others. Some have yet to be. My Master has yet to be.'
'Ah,' said Mr Rune. 'So your Master is not His Satanic Majesty?'
'He had His go,' said the Count. 'He has not succeeded. Men are evil, certainly, but few actually worship Satan. He has little actual power upon this planet.' 'Who, then, is your Master – or what?'
'Another,' said the Count, 'one who exists within time, between the seconds. The one who speaks to me here.' And the Count tapped at his temple. 'One of whom you have no knowledge.'
'Plah!' said Mr Rune. 'You are delusional, Black. A basket case, no less.'
'Up with him!' cried Count Otto Black. 'Cast him into the flames.'
And bare-naked ladies took hold of Mr Rune and struggled to bear him aloft. His stout stick was torn from his hand and flung down to the ground. And although it took nearly all the bare-naked ladies to do it, they finally held him on high. I looked over to Kelly, who stood on the grassy knoll.
'Kelly,' I shouted. 'You cannot let this happen. You are not bad. Stop this if you can.'
'And shut up, you.' And Count Otto hit me, hard and to the head. 'You damn near had my eye out, you little worm!' he shouted. 'You will be next into the flames.'
I looked up at Mr Rune and on high the big figure shrugged.
'You are taking this very well,' I said. 'And that blighter really hurt me.' And I rubbed my head.
'Perk up, Rizla,' said Mr Rune. 'Matters will adjust themselves.'
'That is easy for you to say,' I said, 'being held aloft and about to be thrown into a fire by a bunch of bare-naked devil-worshipping ladies. No, that does not make any sense at all. Sorry.' And my hands began to flap and I began to spin around in small circles. 'Cast the sacrifice into the flames!' cried the Count.
And, held up as high as the bare ones could manage, Mr Rune suddenly groaned. He groaned and he clutched at his heart. And his mighty body went all-over limp and the bare-naked ladies struggled, then dropped him. Mr Rune hit the ground with a thunderous thump.
The sound of it made me feel sick. And certainly made me stop spinning.
And there he lay, all lifeless and broken-looking on the ground.
'Enough of your party tricks, Rune.' And Count Otto Black kicked him, dealing a hideous blow.
But Mr Rune did not flinch, did not shudder. He just lay there. And then he twitched.
And then he trembled, his eyes rolled back and the death rattle rose from his throat.
'Oh no!' I shouted and I leaped forward with no care for the pistol-packing pirate.
I bent and I put my ear to Mr Rune's chest. No heartbeat could I hear. 'Oh no!' I shouted once more. 'He is dead, he has had a heart attack or something. Call for an ambulance.'
Count Otto Black laughed mightily, which I felt was very callous.
'Do something!' I shouted, and I took to beating on Mr Rune's great chest with my fists.
And then all at once, a storm seemed to gather and lightning ripped through the heavens.
'It is no trick!' bawled the Count. 'He is surely dead. To the fire with him.' 'Leave him alone,' I shouted, and raised my fists.
Count Otto laughed once again, and then he gripped my shoulders and hurled me aside and his bare-naked minions laid hands upon Mr Rune. And they sweated and they struggled, but they could not budge his dead weight by even an inch.
'No matter.' The Count now held the map aloft once more. 'It is done. O Most High, the soul of the hated one now wings its way to You. Pass me the knowledge that I might prepare the way for Your coming.'
And as I looked on in considerable horror, the lightning struck like a laser beam, piercing a hole through the map.
'Aha!' The Count cackled and danced a bit, too. He veritably jigged. 'I have it!' he cried and he clutched the map to his bosom.
I stared down at Mr Rune and then stared up at Black and I was in some state of terror. Mr Rune was dead and Black had the map. The map with the neat hole through it. The hole that marked the secret location of the hidden Chronovision. There were tears in my eyes and I trembled and shook. The Count did a soft-shoe shuffle.
Though Mr Rune's heart had ceased to beat, mine was beating faster than ever. My pulse pounded drumbeats in my ears. And these were the drums of war.
He had known. Mr Rune had known that he might die this night, and he had made me swear to continue the quest should he not be able to continue it himself. And this dancing monster before me, this fiend in human form, it was he who had caused Mr Rune's death and he who now held the map to his chest and he who would kill me, too, cast me alive to the flames.
I rose with a roar and as I rose I sighted Mr Rune's stout stick. I snatched it up and I swung it, swung it as hard as I could. And I caught that blackguard a harder blow than I had with the wooden leg. And as he fell I snatched at the map and ripped it from his fingers.
The Count fell down on top of Mr Rune and the bare-naked ladies advanced upon me. And the pirates with their pistols.
'Stop,' I told them, 'all of you. Stop, or I do this.' And I held out the map towards the bonfire flames. 'I will burn it. I will.'
The bare-naked ladies made horrible sounds, like the growlings of spaniels in heat.
'Drop those guns,' I told the pirates. 'Drop those guns or I throw the map in the fire.' The pirates actually dropped their guns. 'And all of you back away.'
They did not want to do it, those witches of the Chiswick Townswomen's Guild. They wanted to tear me limb-piece from limb-piece. And then probably eat me, too.
'Go on,' I shouted, and there was madness in my voice. 'Back away now. It will not go well for you if the Count should awaken to find that the map has been destroyed and that it was all your fault.' And they backed away, growling and spitting.
'Kelly,' I called out. 'Kelly, come down from that grassy knoll.' But Kelly would not come down. 'As you please, then,' I said. 'And goodbye.'
And then I ran. Oh, I can tell you that I ran as fast as I could away from that fire and away from those women. I ran away and away.
They did not follow me at first, but then I did not expect them to. It had occurred to me that they would probably want to get their frocks back on before they pursued me through the busy streets of Lewes.
Although I had read in the Leader that the waiters from Eat Your Food Nude had formed a naturist bonfire society for this year's event. So it was possible that the witches might have been able to blend in with them. Though probably not that probable.
But those ladies did know how to get dressed fast, for I had not got all that tar before I heard them in pursuit. I could not see them because it was dark, but I could certainly hear them.
And they certainly knew how to run, for they were shortly close upon my fleeing heels. 'I will burn it,' I shouted back to them as I ran. But as I lacked for any fire, my threat must have sounded hollow.
Old Laz would have come up with something. And being in darkness he could have been anywhere within the remit of his four locations. And something unexpected would have occurred, to come to his aid, something that had been mentioned in an earlier chapter, as a throw-away aside, or so it would have seemed at the time, but which was really significant when it came to the crunch.
Well, that is how he would have done it. Which was why I wished I was him.
And then as I ran around a corner I was almost run down by a car that was corning up the hill as I was running down. I bounced over the bonnet and came to rest in a heap. The car ground to a sudden halt, a window lowered and a face looked down at me. 'Are you all right?' asked the mouth in this face. 'Far from it,' I said. 'Then let me help you up.'
And I could hear those growling women growing ever closer.
'No,' I shouted and I jumped up and I climbed into his car, sort of over the top of him, as it happened, and I dropped down into the passenger seat. 'Back up,' I told him, 'back up now. Do it if you want to live'
'I don't want to back up,' the driver told me. 'I'm going this way.'
'This way is a dead end,' I told him. 'It only leads up to the castle ruins. Oh, damn.'
And the women were upon us. They drummed upon the sides of the car. I slammed down the lock on my door. 'I would do yours, too, if I were you,' I told the driver. And he did. 'Tell these mad women to get off my car,' the driver said to me. 'It's a classic Morris Minor. Nought to thirty in eight point seven seconds. It even has the original screw-type jack and nine-inch tommy bar. I purchased it in Saltdean thirteen years ago. I call it "The Stallion".'
'The Saltdean Stallion,' I said. 'Well this was not what I was expecting.' 'My name is Norris Styver, by the way.' And that name rang a bell.
'You're the man,' I shouted, for there was quite a din now and the women had ripped off the windscreen wipers. 'The man in the urban myth, who drives for ever around the one-way system, trying to get out of Lewes.'
'I'm no urban myth,' said Norris. 'And if you are all right then I'm glad. I'm very pleased to meet you,' and he put out his hand for a shake. 'What is your name, by the way?'
'Just back up,' I shouted at him, 'or we will both die here. Back up.'
'If it really is a dead end,' said Norris, 'then I suppose I will. Get off my car, you mad women!' he shouted. 'Look what you've done to my windscreen wipers.' And he hooted his horn. And then he put the Morris into reverse. The Morris was rocking all over the place under the women's assault but reverse worked okay and we were soon travelling backwards. Although not as fast as I might have wished.
There were women on the roof and on the bonnet. Others jogged along on either side, swiping at the windows with their handbags.
I dragged the driving wheel to the left, hoping to grind at least a couple of them into one of the dry-stone walls that bordered the narrow road. 'Don't do that,' said Norris. 'Someone might get hurt.'
'These women are witches,' I told him, 'and they have just killed my bestest friend.'
'Well, in that case, we'll report them to the police. There's a police station in town. I've passed by it many many times.' 'Have you never thought of buying yourself a map and taking things really, really slowly?' I asked him. 'You want me to slow down?' 'No, not now. Speed up!'
'It's not that easy.' Norris was straining to look over his shoulder. 'The nodding spaniel in the back is obscuring my view.' I shinnied into the back and ripped away the nodder.
'Now you're in the way,' said Norris. 'Oh, I do wish these women would leave us alone. Persistent creatures, women. I have one at home for a wife. My dinner will have been growing cold on the table for more than five years now.' 'Ever thought of phoning her?' I said.
'Do I look so rich as to possess a car phone?' asked Norris. 'Even if they had been invented yet, which they haven't.' 'No, but…' I paused. 'Never mind. Drive faster.'
'I am driving as fast as I can.' And he was. And suddenly with a lurch and a bang we were no longer on that darkened lane, but back in the bright streets of Lewes.
'It seemed to take much longer driving up than it did backing down,' observed Norris. 'How strange.'
'Just drive,' I said. 'I know the way out of Lewes. Follow my instructions.' Norris laughed. But at least he kept driving as he did so. 'Do not laugh,' I said. 'I do know the way.' 'So where have you parked your car?' 'I came by train,' said I.
And Norris laughed again. And then he suddenly stopped laughing as one of the mad witch women who was still clinging to the bonnet of the Morris lost her grip and fell beneath the wheels. It was a horrible, horrible thing. The shriek. The thump. The bump.
'Oh my God!' shouted Norris, and slammed on the brake. Another one fell from the bonnet.
'Do not stop.' I rammed the gear stick forward and forced my foot down upon his accelerator foot. 'Don't do that,' he shouted, but we lurched forward. With another thump and a bump.
'Oh my God!' shrieked Norris again. 'I have become a serial killer. Please get out of my car.'
'I am not leaving,' I said, and I forced his accelerator foot down harder.
The last of the shrieking women fell from the roof and we moved off through the night streets of Lewes. 'These streets are very quiet,' I observed. 'Everyone is at the bonfire sites.' 'And where are they?' 'Search me,' said Norris, trembling terribly. 'Calm yourself,' I said. 'We are safe now.' 'You made me kill those poor women.' 'Those poor women would have killed you.' 'Why were they chasing you, anyway?'
'Because I have something they want. Drive faster now,' I told him, for Norris was slowing down again. 'They must want it very badly – what is it?' 'It is a map,' I said. 'Oh, one of those,' said Norris, with a sigh.
'And to obtain the information upon this map, they killed my bestest friend. A great man, a mystic and adventurer. The Logos of the Aeon. His name was Mr Hugo Rune.' 'Hugo Rune?' said Norris and he began to laugh again.
I still had Mr Rune's stout stick and was all for using it. 'Why are you laughing?' I asked.
'Because there's no such person as Hugo Rune. He's just an urban myth – the mystical detective who fights the forces of evil, but never pays his bills. It's a myth put about by cabbies, who swear that every time one of their fares runs off without paying, it was Hugo Rune.' And Norris laughed yet again. 'You can drop me off at my hotel,' I said to Norris. 'It is just along here.' 'Which street?' 'The High Street.' 'The High Street isn't just along here,' said Norris. 'I think you will find that it is.' But it was not. 'Turn left here,' I said. 'Can't turn left, that's a one-way street.' 'Next left, then.'
And so it went on. And so we drove. And presently the sun came up and we drove some more.
'You get good mileage out of this car,' I said to Norris. 'We have been driving for hours and hours and the needle on the dial has never moved.' 'It never does,' said Norris.
'Well, of course it does,' I said, 'or do you mean that the needle is broken?'
'Not broken, just never moves. And the petrol never goes down.'
'Do not be silly,' I said. 'You will have to stop and fill up soon.' 'Never do. Never have.'
I looked at Norris. He stared straight ahead. And I felt a terrible chill. And then I saw something more. And I screamed. 'Stop this car right now!' I screamed.
'No,' said Norris. 'You're with me now. You made me drive over those women – you're mine and together we will drive on until the day we leave this cursed little town.'
'Let me out.' And I rattled the handle of my door. But the handle would not move and the door would not open. I was trapped, trapped in a Morris Minor with Norris Styver, the Morris driver, the driver who drives on and on.
And I saw once more what I had just seen that had caused me to scream. Norris Styver was not flesh and blood. Norris Styver was a skeleton, clothed in rags, a horrid skeleton.
He grinned me a death's-head grin and the morning sun made shadows in the sockets of his skull. And a terrible chill entered the air within that Morris Minor. A terrible graveyard chill.
'You are cursed now to ride with me,' said he and he laughed a terrible laugh. 'Unseen in the hours of daylight, when I don't look quite as good as I do at night, you and I will drive on and on until with the coming of Judgement Day we'll drive aloft to redemption.'
'Over my dead body!' I cried, and I swung Mr Rune's stout stick. And to my horror and further alarm, the stout stick passed through Norris and bounced right off his seat.
'Would you like the radio on?' asked Norris. 'It's almost time for Desert Island Discs. I wouldn't fancy being on a desert island myself, no roads to drive along.' 'Let me out of this car,' was what I had to say.
Norris shook his horrible head. A spider crawled out of his nose hole.
'Let me out!' I cried and I rattled at the handle of my door again with vigour.
'Relax and enjoy the ride. I've heard that there are signs and portents in the Heavens. Omens of the Coming of Ragnarok. The End Times are upon us. Judgement Day is close at hand.'
'I do not have time to wait for that,' I said. 'I am upon a quest. I have things to do.'
'There's always time,' said Norris, his finger bones drumming on the steering wheel. 'Time is all we have. You and I, that is.'
'I need the toilet,' I said. 'And I need my breakfast, so please let me out.'
'The pain will pass,' said Norris, softly. 'The hunger will grow strong, but with your passing, it will pass, as it did for the others.' 'Others?' I said. 'I'm Sam,' said someone. 'I'm Bill,' said someone else.
I turned and I stared. And would you believe it – there were two more skeletons sitting in the back.
'It's not so bad once you get used to it,' said Sam (the skeleton on the right, looking from the front, of course). 'We do have our sing-alongs. Is Desert Island Discs on yet, Norris?' 'Let me out!' I screamed.
'Not so loud,' said Norris. 'The noise bounces all about in my empty skull.'
'What do you want?' I begged the dry-boned driver. I was beyond the point of terror now, sort of numb all over. 'There must be something you want, something I can do for you, so that in return you will release me from this car.'
Norris turned his awful empty face in my direction. I want out of this town,' he said. 'Out of this one-way system.' 'That is easy,' I said. Bill and Sam took to laughing and rattling their teeth. 'We tried that,' said Bill to me. 'Don't you think we tried?' 'Well, you cannot have tried very hard.' 'It can't be done,' said Sam. 'Norris is cursed. This car is cursed. It can never be driven out of Lewes.' 'Then let us get out and walk.'
'If we could get out,' said Sam, 'then where would we walk to – the nearest cemetery?'
'You might find some peace there. But come on, Norris, there must be some spark of humanity left in you. I am a young man with my whole life before me. And I am on an important quest, a sacred quest, you could say. Would it really be so hard for you to just let me out?' You made me kill those women.'
'And I am sorry, please do not get me wrong. But they killed my bestest friend.' And the thought of Mr Rune's death brought tears to my eyes.
'You can only be released from this car if you do something in return for me. It is the balance of equipoise, and it must always be maintained.' 'I will guide you out of Lewes,' I said, sniffily. 'Can't be done,' said Sam. 'Don't waste your time trying,' said Bill. 'There must be something I can do,' I said.
'What?' asked Norris, driving along with Desert Island Discs now on the radio. 'The car never needs petrol and we never need food. What could you possibly do for me?' 'I could…' And I thought. 'I could…' And I thought some more. 'I know,' I said, 'I could get you a woman.' 'A woman?' said Norris.
'Well, would you not like a female companion for… you know. You must miss the old you-know.' 'So what you are saying?' said Norris and he turned right.
'You have turned the wrong way down a one-way street,' I said.
'Doesn't matter,' said Norris. 'But what you're saying is that you would entice a woman into this car in order to save yourself. That she should face your terrible fate instead of you.'
'Well, yes,' I said. 'Well, no,' I said. 'That is not a nice idea, is it?' And then, 'Oh, look,' I said. 'That is my hotel up ahead. Please drop me off'
'No,' said Norris. And then he said, 'Oh.' And the car took a lurch and shuddered all about. 'What is going on?' asked Norris. 'Flat tyre,' I said. 'You have a flat tyre.' 'Impossible,' said Norris. 'The tyres never go flat.'
'I bet your MOT is well overdue,' I said. 'I bet all your tyres are bald.' 'The tyres can never go bald.'
'Well, one of them has gone flat,' I said. And Norris stopped the Morris.
And then things grew a little quiet in the car. And a little tense, too, I thought. Not that they were not already tense. At least, they were for me. Beyond tense, in fact. Beyond anything, really. 'Do you have a spare wheel?' I asked Norris. And Norris nodded his death's head. 'Within the boot, would it be?' And Norris nodded again. 'Would you like me to get out and change the wheel?' Norris was silent. 'I will do it,' I said. 'All you have to do is open my door.' Norris remained silent.
'I thought not,' I said. 'Then you will have to do it yourself.' 'I cannot,' said Norris. 'I cannot leave the car.' 'Oh,' I said. 'Really? That is a shame then, is it not? Perhaps the ghost of an A A van will pass this way.' 'It won't,' said Norris.
'Then it will have to be me. And I will do it, to maintain the balance of equipoise. If you let me out, I will do it for you in return.' 'You'd just run away,' said Norris.
'I would not,' I said. 'I promise. See this wet, see this dry, cut my throat if I tell a lie.' 'You'd be cutting your own throat,' said Norris. 'Oh,' I said.
'Because,' said Norris, 'if I release you from the car and you break your side of the bargain, the curse will fall upon you.' 'That I will never be able to get out of Lewes?'
'Your bones will bleach as mine have done, and you will walk and walk for ever. And it's far more miserable to walk than to drive, I assure you. Very hard on the bones of the feet.' And he grinned me that terrible grin once again.
'Let me out of the car,' I said, 'and I will change the wheel.' 'Don't think to break our bargain.' 'I will not,' I said.
And there was a click and my door opened and I stepped out from the car into November sunlight, which although not altogether warm was a considerable improvement on the graveyard chill within that Morris Minor.
'There's a jack in the boot,' called Norris to me, 'a screw-type jack and a nine-inch tommy bar.'
'Norris,' I said, and I raised my finger, 'to use the popular parlance of the day, "sit on this and spin!"'
'What?' went Norris, a look of horror on his face. Which came rather easily to a bonehead.
'This has been the most horrible night of my life,' I said, 'and you can fuck right off.'
Which was as much of a shock to me as it must have been to Norris.
And I turned away from the haunted Morris Minor and marched into the hotel. And once inside, I paused to look back, but the Morris had vanished away. 'And good riddance to you,' I said.
The manager on the front desk made a face at me and I marched into the bar.
There was no one drinking as it was too early, but Fangio was there. He stood behind the counter polishing an imaginary glass and whistling a tune that did not exist. I approached the counter.
'Give me a drink,' I said to Fange, and I sank on to a barstool. 'No nonsense, no toot, any drink you have, as long as it is very alcoholic'
Fange drew me a pint of Farmer's Wife. I did not ask him anything about it.
'You look knackered,' said the barlord. 'Party all night, did you?'
'Anything but,' and I drained much of my beer. 'It was terrible. Horrible. Mr Hugo Rune is dead.' 'Hugo Rune?' said Fange. 'Isn't he an urban myth?'
'Do not even think about it.' I raised Mr Rune's stout stick. 'He is dead – I saw him die, it was awful.'
'I'm truly sorry,' said Fangio, 'and I mean that most sincerely. I really liked the old fart. Does that mean that you will be settling his account at The Pub That Dare Not Speak It's Name, which is what my bar is going to be named tomorrow?'
'No, it does not' I said. 'And show some respect. Mr Rune was a great man – one-of-a-kind, a one-off. I do not think that his like will ever be seen again.'*
Fangio pulled himself a pint. 'I'll miss him,' he said. 'How did it happen?' 'I do not want to talk about it now.' 'No, I suppose not. Oh, one thing – a bunch of *Nor indeed that of Flann O'Brien. strange-looking women were in here earlier asking after you.' 'What did you tell them?' I asked. 'That you weren't here.' 'Thanks for that.' 'I gave them your address at Grand Parade.' I groaned.
'Oh, and the manager of the hotel is really upset. Appar-ently he saw the Pope on TV last night and he's not too happy about Rune having deceived him. But I suppose that doesn't matter now.' 'It does not,' I said. 'Although you'll have to settle the bill.' I groaned again. 'Although,' said Fange, 'I might see my way clear to letting you slip out of the fire exit.' 'That would be brilliant,' I said.
'No problem,' said Fange. 'I told you that I did something really helpful in Chapter Eight.' 'This is now Chapter Nine.' 'You'd better pay the manager, then.' 'I will take you up on your offer.' And I finished my beer. 'I'll put this on the Pope's account,' said Fange.
'Thanks,' I said. 'I will go up to the suite and salvage what I can and then you can let me slip away.' 'See you later, then,' said Fangio.
I went up the stairs with a heavy heart. I felt empty inside. I had no idea how I was going to carry on without Mr Rune and I was worried now about what might have happened to his body. Had those monstrous women done something hideous to it? Should I return to the castly and look? I could not just leave him lying there. Should I call the police? An ambulance? An undertaker? And what was I going to do without him? Where was I going to go? Find the Chronovision, certainly I would try to do that, and destroy it, too. But without Mr Rune, was that even possible? I was sick at heart. And empty.
I found the room key and turned it in the lock. And I pushed open the door.
And then I smelled something and felt something, too – a terrible chill in the air. And I looked and I beheld and I became afeared. Because something sat at the breakfasting table. Something I knew to be dead.
'Ah, Rizla,' said Mr Rune, 'you took your time. I ordered two breakfasts, but had to eat yours as it was growing cold.'