“Awww fiddlesicks,” the tiny one complained, running her fingers through her ugly gray locks.  “I just had me knew style done at the beautician.”

          “If you please, madam… now!”  The booming voice of the wizard got the tiny one moving. 

          She pushed herself away from the bridge game, shuffled across the room to the hearth, where a smoldering pile of coals glowed in the fireplace, a cauldron hanging above it bubbling with toadstools and tails of newts.  She sat down on a stool, and leaned her head back until her hair hung down like gray moss dangling off a cypress.

       &n...

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