'I can take you to the Coven,' the tall, muscular man says in a deep, handsome voice. How can a voice be handsome? Ask Morgan Freeman.

He's immaculate head to foot in layers and layers of clothes. Even so, his musculature clearly sheens out. He wears a hat too, only it's a normal hat. Not a Cellomann gems type. And goggles, he's wearing goggles and gloves. Uncustomary for Lakoswanion. (Yay! I said the name right!)

'How do you know we need to go there?' I question, gulping. This guy looks like he could take on all of us alone if he wanted to. So yeah, I'm skittish.

'Overheard your conversation with Mr. Wacko back there,' he answers in an even deeper voice than before. So deep it puts the dirty lake from earlier to shame. ' I mean, you were not trying to be discreet at all. Or were you?'

The rest of my party crawls up behind me. 'Mar,' Mr. Om says, 'who is this man?'

'This man right here,' the guy answers for himself, 'is your only key to meeting the witches. I've been in Lakoswanion for years. Trust me, no one is going to tell you where your witches are, let alone take you there. No one wants to mess with them.'

'And you?' I ask. 'What's the difference between you and them?'

He replies almost off-handedly. 'What's the difference between an ant and a boot?'

Oh, so he's a player of words. Get in line, deep-voiced dude. There's already a boss here in that arena.

(Me. I am referring to me.)

Bee speaks up: 'Why do you want to help us?'

'I don't talk to little girls with smudge stains on their mouths,' the man says. Well, Bee does have a smudge on her mouth and she technically is a little girl, but the man sounds rather rude.

Aar doesn't lunge at him, but he might as well. 'Who're you calling little girl, huh?'

'Aar, Aar.' I hold him back soon as I see his fists curling. To the man: 'What do you want in exchange?'

He seems to have thought it through. 'Four thousand five-hundred boxings of Leckles, or something of equal or greater value.'

Aar looks at me. We are thinking the same thing. Leckles? Is that the currency here in Lakoswa-boggle-gobble-whatchamallik?

Gosh, these people need to work on names.

It is at this exact moment that I realize we have no money at all. At least none that is transact-able here. Mr. Om offers him normal money - he's got tons of it, owing to his Dark Arts he turned to, which got me cursed and drove me bullocks on Witch Moon Day and in turn led us here in the first place (phew, that was long) - but the deep-throated man rejects. He will have it only in "Leckles".

Now that I think about it, we didn't pay any money to Mr. Cellomann for that huckleberry-bookshelf. Or the damage that See caused. Cool man. Wacky, but cool.

(Okay, you can smack/slap me now. I deserve it.)

'Listen, dude, we don't have any Leckley-thingies, alright?' I say.

'Then we don't have a deal either.' And the man starts to move away.

'Hey, no, dude, listen! Maybe we can work something out!' I'm just grabbing at twigs here, I have no idea what I'm going to follow that up with..

'Like what?' the man raises an eyebrow. It is visible above his goggles. I can't even see his mouth, it's covered in this grey scarf-like thing. There's no sun here, why does he even bother?

'Like - like we ask the Coven to - to maybe fulfill one of your wishes too?' I offer.

He gives a rasp chuckle. 'Yeah, right. Good luck with that.' And the-man-starts-walking-away part two premiers.

'Hey! Listen, you! Give us some time, at least?' This man is the only person in this hellhole who has shown any signs of knowing the Coven's location, we cannot let this go. Could be my last chance to save my Dad, after all.

'Aight,' says the guy. 'You have your time.'

We start chittering amongst ourselves. I'd hoped Bee would have some bright idea, but no. Nothing. We're done for.

Aar starts shuffling inside his pockets. 'Wait, the doctor that treated you gave me this coin thing before we left . . . I can't find it.'

He upturns his pocket and all the contents spill out. There is indeed a coin - a Leckle, I'm presuming - in there, in addition to a paperclip and . . . four small stones?

Not just stones. Stones closely resembling a rotten-heart shape.

'Aar, you've been carrying more of them!' Bee yells at him. I do too. 'This is outrageous! We could've been dead multiple times by now! We're lucky they didn't explode right here, right now!'

'Hold up, hold up,' Aar says. 'I had Es examine them after the whole lizard-heads and stone-bomb incident. She told me it's perfectly safe.'

I turn to Es, who's hovering close by my side. 'And since when are you a geology expert?'

She shrugs. Her shrugs are the best, honestly. Irritating, sure, but the best. 'I guess it's part of my powers now, Mayoree. I could sense whether it was a bomb or not after the explosion.'

'Okay?' Aar says, picking the four stones up from the ground. 'I'm not that big of an idiot, you two.'

He is about to put the stones back inside his pocket, but a gloved hand obstructs his way. It's the new deep-throated "I wear too many clothes" man. 'Where did you find those?'

Something in the man's tone tells me he wants those stones bad. And by something I mean everything.

Thankfully, Aar's bulb shines, too. Never underestimate the common-sense of a stage-actor. 'We've been travelling a lot recently,' he says. (Well, at least it's not a complete lie.) 'Why do you ask?'

The man stays quiet for a moment, as if debating internally as to what to say and what to not. 'What if . . . what if I told you I would give you two-thousand boxings of Leckles for those stones?'

Ooh, he sounds like he really thinks those stones are precious. Which has to mean they are.

My eyes communicate with Aar's: leverage.

His eyes nod back.

'Two-thousand for one, and we have a deal,' Aar says. That wily guy, him. He reminds me time and again why I'm friends with him.

The man gives a wry chuckle, but this chuckle isn't as confident as his precious ones. 'That's a ridiculous price for these.'

'Oh, yeah?' Aar shoots. 'And isn't four-thousand and five-hundred a little extravagant for taking us to the Coven?'

The man gulps. I hear it. We have the cat in the bag.

My eyes to Aar's: well done, my liege.

His pupils bow with a flourish.

It's incredible how eyes can be such great commuters.

'Fine,' the man resigns. And then starts-walking-away part three premiers in your local Lakoswa-boggle-gobble-whatchamallik cinema halls. Let's await the reboot of the trilogy together.

'Hey! Where are you going?' I yell after him.

He doesn't stop. Yells back: 'Follow me.'

So . . . how are you doing?

Well, it'll take a while, but things are again going to get spiced up around here. Stick around.

No, but really - how are you?