Cedric blinks, and lifts the mangled pen from his mouth -

"Well," He forges on, as though Vega hasn't said a thing about it. "Puts you ahead of me."

He passes the page over, worries at the splintered edge of the reed.

"All I've got is demon, and I've got it maybe six times - then, I think, baby?" He can't mangle enough out of a lacking vocabulary to be certain. "But that can't be right. Unless Lady Sibilla is showing off a haunted doll."

He smiles: A joke, a peace offering of his own ignorance. It's less a letter than a page of rumours,

They are all, absolutely, about a haunted doll.