“Cernere’s black cunt,” I whispered, the world twisting at strange angles as the blood pounded through my veins. My drunken gaze swept across th... bottom of the slope and spotted another fire burning and crackling. It was the feyhound by the corpse and—Zanyia lay on the ground, her body burnt. The clammy hands squeezed my guts now. Was she dead, too? Was Sven? Did we lose more than Ealaín? No one was coming to Zanyia’s aid. Kora was by Sven. She could save our husband, but what about Zanyia?The. ‘Ding…dong…ding…dong…” the front-door bell rang. ‘Who could be this’, I wondered. Standing nude in the bathroom, I was about to open the shower to take a bath at 7.30 in the morning. The milkman and newspaper boy had already come and gone. The day, being a Sunday, the elderly maid-servant would come after 9.00 only instead of her usual time of 7.00. Did she forget it was my holiday? I felt irritation to have to attend the door wrapping a bath-towel only around my waist.Then I did a blunder.. More

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