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

She puts her finger to your lips to hush you. "There is but a single question I
answer, good sir, and the answer is this: 'yes, for only five hundred coins.'"
"Five hundred?" I blinked, "That's quite a bit..."
She smiled. "Oh, I assure you, good sir..." She leaned in close, to whisper
warmly in my ear: "'tis worth every last copper."
"No thanks. I've got to buy some charms elsewhere."
"A pity. Please return should you have a change of heart, good sir - I'll be
eagerly awaiting you. Farewell."
"Eh... say there, chief... what do you say?" Morte wagged his tongue eagerly,
"How about spotting old Morte a bit of jink? It's been more a while, you
know..."
I shrugged. We might not be coming out of it alive, so we might as well
enjoy it. "Sure, why not. Miss?"
The young woman examined Morte critically for a time, then nodded. "Yes...
yes, I think I could do that. Well, I could certainly come up with... something.
All for the same fee, of course - a petty five hundred commons."
"Of course. Here you are..." I counted out the coin and some extra. She
seemed nice enough to be worth it.
"All right! Thanks, chief!" Morte turned to follow the woman away.
We finished our preparations in my Festhall room while waiting for him to
return.
"I must say," Grace said meditatively, "I have not had the experience of
waiting for a skull to be serviced so before."
"Unpeeling the mysteries of the universe one sticky layer at a time, eh?"
"Query: What is the nature of this service?" Nordom chirruped, "Addendum:
Would Morte require assistance?"
"Um. No, I don't think your tools are compatible for the job at hand."
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