"What does yo-low mean?" It wasn't asked seriously. Caleb was looking at the knives and the sheets and he knew that they had to start, because that was the order of the room, wasn't it? And to have it laid out so plainly put a bitter taste in the back of his throat, a dislike not only of the situation, but of the creature that had contrived it in the first place.

"This place does like its blood," he said, nodding along this time, more assured in that sense but certainly not any more happy about the situation. He didn't point out that there already had been psychic intrusion, when they came in and were told what was happening. How else would that happen? "I think I would prefer a riddle."