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

I bowed politely, a humble disciple before an aged midwife, "I understand.
Will you teach me?"
"Pah!" Mebbeth shook her head. "One should make songs rather than make
magick. Songs have more beauty. Magick's been made dull, common-place,
soiled by the mob of people that have tromped through it... hmpppph." She
squinted at me, as if she couldn't quite believe the situation. Few came to
midwives and hedge-wizards for real knowledge. "I'll teach ye... but first ye'll
need to do some things for me, ye hear?"
"Like what?"
"My legs aren't good fer walkin' about Sigil, and there's errands I'd have ye
run. I need ye to fetch me some herbs from the market... it's spireward --
easterly and southerly from here -- in the Hive market. Here's a sample..."
She took a black seed from her coat and flicked it to me.
I twisted the black seed in my hand... as I did, I felt a small bite, then a small
drop of blood oozed from my thumb... there were tiny barbs on the seed,
like teeth. Mebbeth snorted. "Careful with it... show it to one of the fruit
merchants at the market, they will know what herbs ye seek."
"Very well, then. I'll return when I have the herbs."
Somehow, I had a feeling this would be a long, annoyingly drawn-out
apprenticeship.
Chapter 15
There was no real need to ask around for an herbalist. In the southwest
portion of the Hive there was a marketplace, a throng of traders and
merchants who carried all sorts of odd wares from other planes. There, I
knew, I would find my answer.
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