“Do
you know... who I am?” The old man repeats his question.
“No,”
replies Raven, “Should I?”
“I...
I don't... I don't know,” the man says, “I don't know... know...
who I am either. I was... I was... I was hoping... hoping you could
tell me.”
“Well
we can't,” snaps the guide harshly. “But I wouldn't worry if I
were you, if you're living here it doesn't matter who you are.”
“Steady
on,” Raven admonishes.
“W...
w... why?” stutters the old man, “Where... where am I?”
“If
the Weave is a barrel,” the guide says, “Then you are at its very
bottom. Now,” he turns to Raven, “There's a clear bit of wall
over there, why don't you use your chalk and we can get away from
here.”
