He hadn’t seen the rook’s skull in days—he couldn’t exactly say how many—and he took its loss as an ill omen. Tears of pain now peeped from the corners of her eyes, but she kept silent. Beside the piano, Sheb raised his head briefly, muttered “Wuzzat?” and dropped it back with a thump. He’ll understand that much.
“Perfectly normal,” she whispered, chopping and throwing. “After that story, I’m not all that hungry. Besides, they were curious. repeated, impassive as only a peasant woman can be in the face of disbelief, and with that Cordelia had to be satisfied.
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