(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

come from?"
"They're brought to Sigil from all over the Planes, my boy! Would ye like
some? I sell only the heads, should ye be short on jink..."
"Mebbeth said you sell ink. She sent me to purchase some."
"Ink?" She chuckled. "Nay, sir, I sells no ink, I sells just fish..."
"Are you sure? Mebbeth... the midwife in Ragpicker's Square... mentioned
you specifically."
"Heh! Well, Kossah-Jai was me Dam's name, and me Grandam's name, so
could be any of us... yet they're both in the dead book, so only this
Kossah-Jai matters. No idea what's she on about... a midwife in the Picker's
Square, ye say?" She thought for a moment. "Don't know her, I don't."
I threw my hands in the air, "So... you don't have any ink? Well, I can't say
that's much of a SURPRISE. I swear Mebbeth is having me run in circles-"
"Now hol' on... yer midwife friend's not all wrong. I know how ye can get
ink... but it may not be the ink ye're lookin' for... the ink I'm thinkin' of
bleeds from the gills of a brogota-fin, it does."
"This brogota-fin... it bleeds ink?"
She frowned. "Aye... thing is, that fish's not for eating, it's gots a horrible
taste, scalds the tongue... you can asks Meir'am, she pitches her fish-sell
down the street a southerly way." She cackled. "She mights have one o'
them fish ye needs on her pole..."
Delightful.
A broad-shouldered woman was shuffling amongst the huge beams lying on
the street as I walked past. She kicked at the beams with iron-shod boots;
every once in a while, she bent down and wrenched a nail from one of the
boards with her bare hands. She held each one up, appraising it, then
dropped it into a leather sling bag.
Damn, this woman was tough as an old boot.
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