Just beyond a house-lew in the village of Glen Glum stands a small inn, from inside which the late arrivals could hear the raised voices of Blind Harry and Black Boab, lampooning the lardy-dardy accents of Pandemic MacFarlane and Martin Elginbrod: "but hoo, in the name o the Wee Man," said Harry, "div they noo stay deid? ye ken The Lochlann split MacFarlane wi his Battle Axe, jist a few feet awa, yet there the evil bastard wis, haudin thon self-same axe—which wee Padraig Macaroon o Minestrone pult fae the very rock it hud bin embedded in ever since The Lochlann clove MacFarlane in twa—when you drapt fae the skies, hoo's that?" and Maude whispered to Oyzell: "that's just what I was wondering, too," then came the voice of the Dominican Friar: "ye mind Michael Scot, the wizard?" and Harry's reply: "oh, aye, an a bonny fechter tae," at which Boab said: "mind he used tae bang on aboot the Direction o Watter?" and Harry: "oh aye, his auld H2O theory—ah think am beginnin tae see whaur ye'r gangin, Boabie, ye mean they kin oanlie be kilt aince, in a direct line o Time?" and Boab's: "ye've hit the nail oan the heid, Harry—but aince they've bin kilt like jist noo, the door that led thum here's closed, jist like they couldna get back tae when The Lochlann kilt thum, so they'll na cum here an noo agin, wee Kwasi's safe an soond!"