CHAPTER FORTY TWO
"Light the faggots.”
It was working, wasn’t it? It may be taking a little longer than anticipated for her feet to touch the ground, her head to stop feeling as if spun like a globe in a darkly careering world, her body to centre. Through the dark, through the mist, that voice called her. That voice was one she knew vaguely. Thank God, she was back. For a second there, it had been touch and go. She’d found herself in some terrible situations, but so long as it was not a raid, not a ship, so long as her actual appearance wasn’t too noticeable, so long as it wasn’t worse and she could explain herself, this was fine. She was here and that voice was familiar.
“But, Snotra . . .”