Chapter Two

My great great grandmother, Queen Ethelstar, built the Pugglemunt dungeons. They weren’t built to be dungeons, however — she just wanted somewhere to run around on an evening free from prying eyes, and, much like a woodlouse, dormouse or snail, she was fond of dank, windswept spaces. Don’t ask me why, I never met her — all I have of hers is a little bronze trudgeon she used to whack people with and a tapestry depicting her swinging from the chandelier in her nightie at a banquet (she was a good egg but mad as a hatful of butterflies).

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