When they searched the dungeon, they found an old, old man. He was shackled with chains as thick as a wrist. He did not lift his head when the rebels burst through the rotting door.
“What?” cried Dontain. “Who are you, sir, and why have you been so chained?”
The prisoner glanced at his wrists. “I do not recall,” he said, his voice strangely strong and clear. “I must have done something very bad.”
They struck the chains from his wrists. He stood and stretched, tall and wide. “Ah, now I remember. Yes, I remember… everything…”
The torches went out.
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