The Witch Who Sells Maps

She did not look like a witch. She looked like an accountant. The sign over her stall said MAPS and under that, in smaller letters, AND ADVICE YOU WONT LIKE. "You're the fake knight," she said, before Kell had opened his mouth. "I prefer accidental knight." "You'll prefer dead knight by next week, the rate you're going." She rolled out a map and tapped a black smear at its edge. "Demon's here. It's not actually a demon, by the way. It's worse, and the difference will matter to you very much when you meet it." Kell looked at the smear. Then at the witch. "Could you, perhaps, just tell me the worse thing now?" "I could," she agreed pleasantly, and did not.