I can still see you, and you look as real as this other dagger that I’m pulling out now.
You’re leading me toward the place I was goingalready, and I was planning to use a weapon just likeyou. My eyesight must either be the one sense that’s notworking, or else it’s the only one that’s working right.
I can still see you, and I see blood splotches on your blade and handle that weren’t there before. There’sno dagger here. It’s the murder I’m about to do that’s making me think I see one. Now half the world is asleep and being deceived by evil nightmares. Witches areoffering sacrifices to their goddess Hecate.
Old man murder, having been roused by the howls of his wolf, walks silently to his destination, moving like Tarquin, as quiet as a ghost. Hard ground, don’t listen to the direction of my steps. I don’t want you to echo back where I am and break the terrible stillness of this moment, a silence that is so appropriate for what I’m about to do. While I stay here talking, Duncan lives. The more I talk, the more my courage cools.
I’m going now. The murder is as good as done. The bell is telling me to do it. Don’t listen to the bell, Duncan, because it summons you either to heaven or to hell.