Baba frowned, the mouth visible beneath her coverings twisting into a perfect, cruel sneer. "Back into the cold and the dark. Joy." Her voice was smooth and alluring, though just as cold as her features. "It has been years since I have been in my homelands. Pleasant years." The accent was strange, mostly Romanian, but it had touches of most of the Eastern Continent to it. Hungary was in there and a strong dose of Ukrainian and Russian tones. "You may find women here, Vol, but they will likely be thin and worn." Delicate, pale fingers toyed with a blackened bronze coin hanging from her belt by black thread. "Peasant fare will get you peasant bodies. But they will welcome any distraction from life." Small motes of black fire danced over her fingers before vanishing in blue smoke. "Some might even welcome our attentions as a release."

Her head turned to Hag. Despite her resentment of his twisting her wish, she had gotten much of what she wanted. And she enjoyed doing what she did now far more than just sitting in a cottage in the woods, waiting for idiot maidens to come by. Now the maidens came willingly and offered themselves—unknowingly—to her clutches. "You might even be able to find one or two people to join the Carnival, Hag." There was a hint of disdain in how she spoke to her "employer". "People in this . . . country . . . would sell their souls gladly for an escape. Then again. At best, you might find a hedge witch." She spat the term. "No one with real talents. Unless we've found a particularly interesting town."