"Don't like London?!" she gasped in mock horror, elbowing him good-naturedly. Gwyn knew, of course, that Howell had his limits, but had long since learned how to dance right up to the edge of them before scurrying away cackling. "Do the folks at Witch Weekly know your dark secret? I should think—oh!" the young dragonkeeper stopped in her tracks, momentarily distracted from her ribbing of the gruff wizard. "What's that?"

The little stall seemed like an island in the hustle and bustle of the street, altogether nondescript save for the word CHANGES bannered above it.