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

him alone before he tries to send the other dogs after us."
The old man cocked his head to one side, his sightless gaze fixed on empty
space. "Chaos of you are not. Not! Pot! Snot!"
I groaned, "Has everyone here lost their minds?"
"That's kind of the point, chief."
"Walk, not talk. Talk is complete. Completed to completion!" The old man
gave a dismissive wave and turned his back to us, apparently done with the
conversation.
I shut the door behind us as we left, and headed towards another, "It's
obvious we'll get nowhere asking these madmen. We'll have to find our own
way."
"Maybe not," a voice whispered. I jumped.
As I looked closer I noticed a figure hidden amid the shadows in the corner
of the room. When I drew near, a young woman stepped out to reveal
herself. She was dressed in a loose-fitting tunic, which, together with her
short-cropped hair and slender frame, gave her a rather boyish appearance.
"I must say, it's quite a relief to see some sods who don't knot their words or
chew at the walls. And I wouldn't go in there if I were you." She nodded in
the direction of the door on the south wall.
"Why? What is beyond the door?"
She winced at the sound of my voice, putting a finger to her lips to indicate
silence. She paused for a moment, then answered in a hushed voice. "A
whole mess of them howling lunatics, that's what. Looks like they're having
some sort of gathering. Won't be able to get through to the alley until they
clear out."
"Who are you?"
"My name's Sybil." She whispered quietly, then spat into her palm and
reached out to clasp my hand. I shook it reluctantly as the wad squelched
against my palm.
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