| Hint | Answer |
|---|
| There was still a large element of cockroach in her glance, but it said: good little cockroach, you have learned a trick. | |
| ‘A bloody good memory is what he ought to have,’ she said. ‘He’ll always remember the words.' | |
| She was an intelligent-looking woman, who appeared to treat her husband much as a sheepdog treats a favourite lamb. | |
‘He was very popular at court,’ said Granny. ‘I know that much.’
-‘Oh, yes. With the queen, at any rate.’ | |
| Everyone’s fairy godmother, for two pins. But a good soul, underneath it all. Kind to small furry animals. The sort of person who worried about baby birds falling out of nests. | |
| She struggled up through the weeds, incoherent with rage, and rose from the ditch like Venus Anadyomene, only older and with more duckweed. | |
| She’d never mastered the talent for apologizing, but she appreciated it in other people. | |
| The woman was looking at him again, turning her head this way and that and narrowing her eyes. She kept glancing at Fool and back to Tomjon. | |
| It was a rich and wonderful voice, with every diphthong gliding beautifully into place. It was a golden brown voice. | |
| The man was clearly mad, but at the heart of his madness was a dreadful cold sanity, a core of pure interstellar ice in the centre of the furnace. | |
| ‘She had a sweet tooth. Lived in a real gingerbread cottage. Couple of kids shoved her in her own oven at the end. Shocking.’ | |
‘He doesn’t seem to like the place much.’
‘Of course he does. It’s in his blood.’
‘I brought him the pretty way. He didn’t seem very impressed.’ | |
| Death adjusted his cardboard skull in front of the mirror, twitched his cowl into a suitable shape, stood back and considered the general effect. | |
| Her black shawl billowed around her like the wings of an avenging angel, come to rid the world of all that was foolishness and pretence and artifice and sham. | |
| | Hint | Answer |
|---|
| ...over the centuries the chain mail of the palace guards has had to be handed down from one generation to another...This one made him look like a bullet-proof bloodhound. | |
| For a moment he thought he saw, faint as a mist, a tall sad man in front of him, stretching out a hand in supplication. | |
| Months of pumping ectoplasm had left him in better shape than he had ever been, apart from being dead. | |
| He was at least of average height, but he made himself small | |
| 'His mouth says the words, and his eyes say something else. And I got the impression he’d much rather we believed his eyes.’ | |
| The singing wasn’t particularly good. The only word the singer appeared to know was ‘la’, but she was making it work hard. | |
| ...put those who met him in mind of some sort of lizard, possibly the type that lives on volcanic islands, moves once a day, has a vestigial third eye and blinks on a monthly basis | |
| They say when they go to talk to him he just stares at them and giggles and rubs his hand and twitches a bit.’ | |
| ...a large fat man who had been badly savaged by a moustache. | |
| Shadows seemed to move across his face; his eyes sank, his lips drew back from his teeth, his skin stretched and paled. | |
| The old woman had been a great collector of such things and, most unusually, had written them down; witches didn’t normally have much use for literacy. | |
| Its funny lips curled back. There was absolutely nothing funny about its teeth. | |
| Its ears were a couple of perforated stubs, its eyes two yellow slits of easy-going malevolence, its tail a twitching series of question marks as it stared at him. | |
| Above the hearth was a huge pokerwork sign saying ‘Mother’. No tyrant in the whole history of the world had ever achieved a domination so complete. | |
|
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