All he needed was a few minutes of peace. Then he'd show them.
The upper floors were more full of shadows. What they were short on was structural strength. Pillars and walls had been torn out by the dragon as it built its cave. Rooms gaped pathetically on the edge of the abyss. Dangling shreds of wall-hanging and carpet flapped in the wind from the smashed windows. The floor sprang and wobbled like a trampoline as Wonse scurried across it. He struggled to the nearest door.
'That was commendably fast,' said the Patrician.
Wonse slammed the door in his face and ran, squeaking, down a corridor.
Sanity took a brief hold. He paused by a statue. There was no sound, no hurrying footsteps, no whirr of hidden doors. He gave the statue a suspicious look and prodded it with the sword.
When it failed to move he opened the nearest door and slammed it behind him, found a chair and wedged it under the handle. This was one of the upper state rooms, bare now of most of its furnishings, and lacking its fourth wall. Where it should have been was just the gulf of the cavern.
The Patrician stepped out of the shadows.
'Now you have got it out of your system…,' he said.
Wonse spun around, sword raised.
'You don't really exist,' he said. 'You're a-a ghost, or something.'
'I believe this is not the case,' said the Patrician.
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