“Well?” asked Raven.
“There is joy, sadness, love and resentment. The usual traces for a dwelling of this type.”
“And betrayal?”
“A faint trace, but it is old.”
“Tragedy?”
“There is always tragedy, but in this place it is ancient.”
“How ancient?”
“It predates the current dwelling.”
“What flavour of tragedy?”
“A woman bludgeoned her husband to death, mistakenly believing he loved another.”
“Anything else?”
“There is a strong smell of unspoken dread and a rich seam of raw wonder. A child was born here, and... something witnessed it.”
