'I will, damn you.'
'I doubt you'll get anywhere,' Harllo threw in, somewhat unwisely, 'even if you do bat your eyes and pout those rosy lips of yours-'
'Those are the last things you'll see when I push my knife through that tin tuber in your chest. Oh, and I'll blow a kiss, too.'
Harllo's bushy brows rose. 'Tin tuber! Stonny, my dear — did I hear you right?'
'Shut up, I'm not in the mood.'
'You're never in the mood, Stonny!'
She answered him with a contemptuous smile.
'Don't bother saying it, dear,' Gruntle sighed.
The shack leaned drunkenly against the city of Pale's inner wall, a confused collection of wooden planks, stretched hides and wicker, its yard a threshold of white dust, gourd husks, bits of broken crockery and wood shavings. Fragments of lacquered wooden cards hung from twine above the narrow door, slowly twisting in the humid heat.
Quick Ben paused, glanced up and down the littered alleyway, then stepped into the yard. A cackle sounded from within. The wizard rolled his eyes and, muttering under his breath, reached for the leather loop nailed to the door.
'Don't push!' a voice shrieked behind it. 'Pull, you snake of the desert!'
Shrugging, Quick Ben tugged the door towards him.
'Only fools push!' hissed the old woman from her cross-legged perch on a reed mat just within. 'Scrapes my knee! Bruises and worse plague me when fools come to visit. Ah, I sniffed Raraku, didn't I?'
The wizard peered into the shack's interior. 'Hood's breath, there's only room for you in there!' Vague objects cluttered the walls, dangled from the low ceiling. Shadows swallowed every corner, and the air still held the chill of the night just past.
'Just me!' the woman cackled. Her face was little more than skin over bones, her pate hairless and blotched with moles. 'Show what you have, many-headed snake, the breaking of curses is my gift!' She withdrew from the tattered folds of her robes a wooden card, held it up in trembling hands. 'Send your words into my warren and their shape shall be carved hereupon, burned true-'
'No curses, woman,' Quick Ben said, crouching down until his eyes were level with hers. 'Only questions.'
The card slipped beneath her robes. Scowling, the witch said, 'Answers cost plenty. Answers are worth more than the breaking of curses. Answers are not easily found-'
'All right all right, how much?'
'Colour the coin of your questions, twelve-souls.'
'Gold.'
'Then gold councils, one for each-'