"You shouldn't be here," the frog says.
I look back at the stairs I've just climbed. Somehow, it looks a lot easier from up here.
"You invited me," I point out.
The spiral staircase seems shorter still, like the floor below is rushing up to meet me. I feel sick. I look away.
"Here as in in this world," says the frog as he sips his acorn tea. "Not specifically this tower."
Patronising bastard.
"Murderous bitch," the frog says, looking me straight in the eye and not flinching.
I pick up the cup and saucer he put in front of me as I stand. I try not to grip it too tightly. How easy it would be to break it on his head. Unfortunately, the china is far too delicate to do him any damage.
"That was uncalled for," I say, trying to keep my tone level.
He raises his eyebrows at me. "Really."
"The-- My... guide says you can help me get home," I say.
Although the guide also said the frog wouldn't help me now I'd killed his wife. We'll see about that. It's not like the frog knows. I sit myself down in an overstuffed armchair and make myself comfortable. The acorn tea tastes horrible but I sip it anyway.
"I want you gone," says the frog, "so I will."
We al sip at our cups, he and the angular thing their last couple of fingers raised like they have to be posher than anyone. Why can't they just buy proper mugs with handles that hands actually fit?
"This service is beautiful, don't you think?" asks the frog. Before anyone can answer, he continues, "My wife chose it."
So...
"How do I get home?" I ask.
Like I have time to discuss some idiot's idiot late wife, even in this dream.
The guide hisses at me. I don't care. I have zero interest in small talk with these crazies.
The frog looks at me. Former frog. My imaginations has made a not bad looking man out of him when it transformed him. A bit broad-featured but I can get over such a minor imperfection.
I smile, although I suspect all he's good for is to tell me to put on a pair of shoes, click my heels together and repeat some not-so-magic words.
"There's a stone circle," he says, and I'm immediately thinking of Stonehenge, "and a ritual."
"Is it saying 'There's no place like home'?" I ask.
"No."
"Oh." Well, it's hardly going to be that much more complicated, even if the words are different. "How do I get to this stone circle?"
"My wife can show you," says the frog. "When she gets back."
"When she gets back," my guide echoes, looking horrified.
Really, if I can look at it without showing my disgust for its lifestyle choices, the least the little shit can do is stop giving me away like that.
The frog stares at me. "You might want to go looking for her if she doesn't come back soon. Seeing as you're in a hurry."
Great. Looking for a broken doll in the undergrowth, knowing that there's no way it's going to help me out. Exactly how I don't want to spend my time.
"Or you could," I reply, looking pointedly at both the frog and the guide.
"No," says the frog. "No. I think that's a job for you."
He looks at a cuckoo clock I don't remember noticing before. "I probably shouldn't delay you any more by offering a second cup, either."
He stands up and he towers over me. I thought he was shorter than that.
"Please," he says, "don't let us keep you."
He gestures towards the stairs.
Only there are no stairs. The front door is right there in the wall.