fixed bloodshot eyes on Ishvari. “Food!” she ordered curtly. “Food, girl, and fast!” 

The hag was filthy, garbed in soiled rags—and yet the rags were silken and their hems shimmered with dirt-encrusted gold work…was she an exiled aristocrat fallen on hard times? A witch who had lost her customers, daring to traverse a region forsaken by ordinary humans? “There’s…there’s food in the hut,” Ishvari stammered. She clambered up the slope, aware of sharp eyes boring into her back. Grabbing the bananas, she flew back down to find her unwelcome guest lying on her back, staring up at the darkening sky. Even prone, she intimidated Ishvari. Timidly, Ishvari placed the fruit by her side.

“Takes off like a terrified ass and returns with a sorry bunch of bana...

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