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"Enough screaming," the old man said. I was aware that the younger man was back in the room. "You’re fainted now."
I was grateful. My throat was sore from this command performance, which had been encouraged by a red hot poker held uncomfortably close to my fingers.
The younger man held up a blackish slab of flesh. "Fresh cut, even. He must have owed you a big winning."
"I caught him with the Miller’s daughter."
But I thought she was..." The younger man shook his head. He held up a bladder. "And he sent some fresh blood, too."
"Good." The old man took the bladder, then forced its sour contents into my mouth. I swallowed a good bit, but the rest splashed out onto my face and clothes. He chuckled. "Excellant. Couldn’t have done a better job myself."
