“This lock of hair,” Raven said, waving it in our faces, “this represents your wife.”
He placed it purposefully at the top of the table. Looking back to the artefacts, his fingers dancing across them, he seized the peacock feathers.
“Now these, they had me confused for a while. All that evil eye nonsense. But they're simple, really. These represent your marriage.”
He placed them next to the hair, the grabbed the pound note.
“And this is a promise, an old promise.”
It went next to the feathers.
“But how will this help?” I asked.
