The guttural voice was full of sarcasm and hostility. It looked like seven, maybe eight, trolls, but they were so large Geraint expected another half-dozen to pop out from behind them at any moment. They seemed to cover the far side of the room without leaving any space for air. The single naked light bulb was all that lit the place, but at that instant it seemed to shine unbearably bright and harsh. Most of the trolls seemed to have guns, and one had a shotgun that looked like it could neatly blast all visitors to hell and back with one delicate squeeze of the trigger. At their feet lay some large plastic trays covered with opaque plasbags filled with soft substances Geraint didn’t want to look at more than once.