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“Lots of people deserve to die,” said the dust-wife finally. “Not everybody deserves to be a killer.”
Afficher en entier"Is it bad?" asked Marra.
"It would probably kill you in a week or so," said the dust-wife, bending over her hands. "You'd get a taste for human flesh first, though, which would be exciting for everyone ... Oh, don't look so stricken." She unstoppered the jar. Marra smelled honey, but the liquid that the dust-wife dabbed on her wounds was red as fire.
"What is it?"
"Rust honey. Made by clockwork bees." The dust-wife rubbed it into the joints of Marra's fingers, muttering words that Marra couldn't quite make out. Eventually she sat back. "That should do it. Tell me if you get the urge to take a bite out of someone, though."
"There's a long list of people I'd like to bite," said Marra, a bit dryly.
The dust-wife snorted. "Fair enough. Just tell me if you get the urge to chew afterward, then."
Afficher en entier"You cannot help people who do not want help," rumbled Fenris. "You can't force someone to do what you think is best for them." He paused, then added, somewhat reluctantly, "Well, you can. But they don't appreciate it and most of the time it turns out that you were wrong."
Afficher en entier"Probably a sad story," said the dust-wife. "They usually are. Somebody gives a lonely child a toy and they pour all their hopes and fears and problems into it. Do it long enough and intensely enough, and then it just needs a stray bit of bad luck and the toy wakes up. Of course, it knows that the only reason it's alive is because of the child. A tiny personal god with one worshipper. It latches on and ... well." She clucked her tongue. "Normally you get them pried off and burned long before adolescence. Impressive that it lasted this long."
"We can burn it," said Marra. "Burning is fine. I'll get the kindling."
"Not without her permission. You don't go tearing off an adult woman's god and setting it on fire." The dust-wife gave her a sharp look, as if she were suggesting something rude.
"It was choking her!"
"It's her neck, not yours."
Afficher en entier“You heard stories, of course. Stories of the Fair Folk, of little people that lived behind the world. Stories of old gods that had never learned how to die.”
Afficher en entier“Come back as you can, and if you can't, I hope fate is kind to you.”
Afficher en entier“I was going to suggest we start looking for you, but then you turned up. How did you find us?”
“A saint led me,” said Marra. “The one from the goblin market.”
All three of them stared at her.
“Huh”, said the dust-wife.
“How fascinating!” said Agnes.
“A few months ago, I would have thought you were mad or lying,” said Fenris. “Now I suppose I'm just surprised she didn't stay for tea.”
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