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survive at all,
out in this harsh wilderness.
     
Will you:
Ask them to tell you more about the Wiccans? — 162
Ask about Raven’s Rest? — 319
Tell them to find charity some place else? — 107
Give them a gift of 5 gold crowns? — 326
Leave and continue your journey? — 199
    38
    The woman plants her hands on her hips. ‘Now, what you doing asking me about a place like that for, dearie? Look around you – this is a home of merriment and cheer;
me very own church of joy. But that place . . . I know what it is. It’s where the inquisition take those they don’t like; those that don’t play by their rules.’ She dabs at
her forehead with the back of her hand. ‘You got a friend there, me dear? Someone you missing?’
    You shake your head. ‘No, I was just curious.’
    The woman blows out her cheeks. ‘I don’t need to tell you this, dearie, I’m sure there’s a smart head on those shoulders, but don’t be prying into the affairs of
the inquisition. Their way of answering ain’t going to be as sweet as mine, if you get my meaning.’
    Return to 52 to ask the bar woman another question.
    39
    ‘Yes, I do profess to having had a hand in some of the more . . . unsavoury clean up operations that have been going on in Carvel.’
    ‘I heard rumours,’ you add. ‘Some masked vigilante . . . the stories sounded a bit . . .’
    ‘Fanciful?’ Lazlo raises an eyebrow. ‘I did hear one story that I was actually a vampire – a fanged assassin, preying on the weak and vulnerable. That is one rumour I
have now put paid to. Or should I say, you did.’
    You frown. ‘I did?’
    ‘The margoyle,’ he prompts with a grin. ‘They normally don’t come this far north and they certainly don’t come near settlements. But this one was ranging further
afield, attacking pilgrims on the roads and even venturing into the town at the dead of night.’ He winces, rubbing at his bruised face. ‘I was able to guess at its lair. And that is
where you found me. And the margoyle.’
    ‘So the mask,’ you enquire. ‘That is a disguise?’
    Lazlo nods. ‘Of course. It wouldn’t do for my dear father, the king, to know his son is running around the streets of Carvel, fighting criminals and hoodlums .’ He sniffs,
smoothing down his silken shirt. ‘I’m not his favourite. My taste for the high life doesn’t quite agree with him.’
     
Will you:
Ask him about the strange dream? — 62
Enquire as to your whereabouts? — 9
State you wish to leave? — 167
    40
    As you clamber up the hill you are surprised to hear an old woman, muttering and cackling to herself. You can’t make out the words, but they sound like part of a chant or
a rhyme.
    At the top of the mound you see that an intricate pattern of runes has been burnt into the grass. A woman, old and hunched over, is hobbling around its edge, pulling black candles from a sack
that she drags behind her. These are being placed in various chalk circles. Most of the candles are already lit.
    At the centre of this bizarre display, a large hollowed-out pumpkin rests on a bed of stone. Two slanted eyes and a jagged mouth have been cut into one side, and a candle burns within it, giving
off a ghoulish glow.
    The woman sniffs the air, then suddenly whirls around, pointing a gnarled finger at you. She spits out a curse, her eyes narrowing to dark slits. Your first reaction is to raise your hands, to
prove you mean her no harm, but the woman’s scowl is a clear sign that she sees you as her enemy.
    ‘Must finish the ritual,’ she hisses. ‘Sacred land must be protected!’ She lunges forward, her long bony fingers crackling with magic:
     

     
    If you defeat the deranged witch, turn to 7 .
    41
    (If you have the word
bones
written on your hero sheet, then turn to 56 .)
    The weasel-faced trader makes the sign of the cross as you approach. ‘Ah, the One God bless you, my friend. You walk in Saint Allam’s footsteps. They say he stood on this very spot,
to proclaim