A QUERULOUS QUEST
Between the two rivers, in the towering, bulgesome city of Tullgotha, there lived a small, neatly-bearded knohm named Razzles.
Razzles lived in a small stone cottage a mere hop, skip and a jingle away from the lower Tullgotha city centre. The residents there fondly referred to their dense knot of rambunctious architecture and ramshackle hovels as the ‘city centre’ yet this was something of a misnomer since Tullgotha was in reality a sprawling series of enormous circular steps precariously stacked in the manner of a gargantuan wedding cake. The outer, lower ring, therefore, had no centre. Yet it felt like ‘the centre’; the higher, more important tiers, somehow lacked the earthy realism of the ground level. Down here where most of the buildings had wildly overhanging, wood-beamed upper floors and drunkenly warped slate roofs you sensed that this was the true city, the genuine heart of the place. Down here you could really get lost in a