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“Ah.' The godmother smiled then, and cracks ran across her skin from the motion, like a plaster wall falling apart. As Marra watched in horror, a chip of skin fell from her cheekbone. There was no blood under it, nothing but cool, brown bone. 'Yes, Agnes, will you pass me my teacup? It seems that I am about to die, and I would like a little more tea.' ... She tried to press it in to the godmother's hands, but they were only bone, folded politely in to a pile of dust. ... 'Thank you,' said the godmother against the rim of the teacup, and then she fell apart. Marra took a step back but there was something oddly peaceful about it, about bones sinking down in to the robes and the dust pattering down around them. There had been very little flesh left to the godmother, only skin and skeleton and iron will. Her robes stayed in the perfect triangle, stiff with gold brocade.”

“Did an echo just tell us to run?' asked Agnes, adjusting Finder, and looking rather calmer than Marra felt. 'Do ghostly echoes have our best interest at heart?' asked Fenris, also remarkably calm. 'Rarely,' said the dust-wife. Marra thought, I'm surrounded by lunatics, but and I love them all, but maybe we should be running, anyway.”

“You need to train him to sleep elsewhere,' said the dust-wife, disapprovingly. 'Otherwise you'll have a rooster who thinks he should dive headfirst in to your cleavage when he wants to roost.' 'It's been a while since any man wanted to dive in to my cleavage,' said Agnes. 'It might be a nice change.' 'Not when the spurs grow in.' 'Oh, well, probably not.”