It’s hard for me to follow the guide: my paws buckle from weakness. But finally we come. I see an inquisitor with a thorn in his black eye, his face covered in a scar. It was he who came then to the estate of Larre. And everything also seems to me like an ugly scaly lizard.

“Ballion,” another one addresses him, “I can't stand the stink of dog hair.

“Sorry, senior,” apologizes the fascius who found me.

I look closely at the head inquisitor. Here, in this terrible place, without my sense of smell, I feel as difficult as a blind person who is used to relying on sight. However,...