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Elempi came to the Poets' Corner.
"I wouldn't go there if I were you," said a voice. Elempi looked around. "Over here. No, here. No no no! Over here." Elempi found the source of the voice. It was a dreaded bust. None other than Sir Water Scotch & Rye, to be precise.
"I always thought that scowl was very lifelike," Elempi remarked.
"Of course it is! Now don't go over there."
"Over where?"
Sir Water Scotch & Rye indicated to his right with a nod of his head, which set his shoulders rattling on the pedestal.
"Careful!"
"Never you mind! Just don't go over there!"
"Why ever not?" Elempi asked.
"You'll be stepping on deadmen's bones, that's why ever not!"
"Erm, that is hardly avoidable in this great Stabby, don't you think?"
The bust rolled its eyes. "You do not want to step on that particular grave."
Elempi went over for a look. Jeff Chaw Sir. "Shouldn't that be Sir Jeff Chaw? And why have I never heard of him?"
A deep groan came from beneath the ancient stones.
"You stepped on him," the bust accused.
"Did not."
"Maybe not with your feet, but with your words."
"That hardly counts."
"It counts most of all!"
"Whatever. Have you seen a bride?"
"A bride? Here? Whatever for? There's no wedding today."
"My bride ran away. Cold feet and all that. I'm trying to find her."
"I'll tell you what I saw if you get off that grave."
"I'm not on the grave."
"Liar."
Elempi looked down. The groan came again from deep beneath his feet. "Why, the stones moved!"
"Hmph!" cried Sir Water Scotch & Rye.
Elempi stepped off the grave. "So what did you see?"
"Nothing."
Elempi groaned. In harmony with the voice from beneath the stones. It was actually pretty nice to hear. It sounded a bit like 'Illamatar Save the Queen'. Well, it would have to a pack of hounds. At any rate, there was no white gowned bride in the Poets Corner, so Elempi forsook the place and Sir Water Scotch & Rye and ambled on up some steps beside massive sarcophagi in honor of much dead royalty, until he stopped, listening to a sound that seemed familiar somehow. It was coming from a little corner tucked away between the tombs of Deadwood the Confettior and Henpecked IV. Someone was sniffling. Crying, even. The someone was not in the white bridal gown, but it would not hurt to ask. Maybe this person had heard from Panakeia and was weeping in sympathy. Poppycock, you twit, Elempi said to himself. But why not?
He tapped on the weeper's shoulder.
"Pardon me, but have you seen a bride running away from her groom?"
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