‘Okay, that’s enlightening,’ Handy thought to himself as he logged that nugget of information in his head. He heard the pair grunting with effort under the weight of the box in their magic, the swing of a large door, the sound of a busy street, the clippity-clop of hooves on stone, the swing of a sign upon rusted chains above him and another door. Then it hit him, the murmured voices, the dull roar of revelry and laughter and shouting, the musky smell of dozens of unwashed bodies packed tightly into an area, the smell of soot and smoke of a peat fire and the more fragrant smell of tobacco pipes, and the final betraying scent of spilled beer.