Accordingly Querc had truncated her education and let it be known that her services as a scribe were available to anyone who might have need of such. This had led to what sounded like an awkward interview with Pick, who had made a rare trip into Toravithranax in the wake of the sudden and unexplained disappearance of his previous amanuensis, “most likely blown off a cliff during a tempest.” Despite its evident drawbacks, Querc had been strangely attracted to the position. She had no fondness for the Land, and in a sense you couldn’t get farther from the Land than the Last Bit and the Newest Shiver. Oh, other Bits were farther away as the giant talking raven flew, but this felt more removed just because of its newness, the fact that it was on fire, and the fact that no one lived there except Pick. Yet it was close enough to Toravithranax that she could go there a few times a year and check to see if any further news of her family had arrived (though the tone in which Querc said this—wistful, even sheepish—hinted that she now saw that as naive). But the thing that really sold her on the job was its subject matter. Much of what Pick liked to talk about put her strongly in mind of her gem-hunting forebears and the notions they’d handed down as to how different kinds of precious stones came into being and where they might most profitably be sought. Some of which now struck her as eminently reasonable while much was completely demented. Pick had a whole picture in his mind that strung together all of the former while firmly rejecting the latter. So she had gone with him and had never regretted doing so—though, she had to admit, greater variety in food would have been nice.

Thus Querc. Her tale-telling was interrupted several times by complications having to do with the preparation and serving of the meal, and during those interludes Prim looked about the hut curiously. From a distance it had looked far more ramshackle than it really was. That was because its roof was patched together from whatever they could find.