End Notes
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Master, said Ootapi one rainy afternoon. You have been too long idle, and it sours your temper. You require an occupation.
‘Quite,’ said Konrad, with a curl of his lip. ‘Not nearly enough people are being murdered. It is highly inconvenient of everybody to keep breathing in this detestably ceaseless fashion.’
Eetapi drifted closer, her chill, incorporeal presence causing the hairs on the back of Konrad’s neck to rise. Her voice whispered in his mind, in the mournful tones of funeral bells: Shall I kill someone for you, Master?
Konrad closed his newspaper with a snap. ‘A commendable thought, dear serpent, but you overlook one or two
