The travelinge salesman, a short, dark-haired fellowe approximytely 400 years old, introduced himself as Wang Gendung. In hys Italian? accent he assured me hys new Arte technique was sound. Those of you familiar with my prior techniques (see Ancient Artes and their remedies) will understand my intereste.

BUT All he sold me was a case of pinnes and a little bottle marked ‘Heavenly Flowers’!

A case of the pins and needles.

Inside the case was a slender sett of porcupine quilles, a rolled up example of artwork of the kind found in lesser Gallerias in the town, and a cup. The salesman’s name was not Wang Gendung, apparently, but ‘Ming’, as hys name was written under the cup in a squibbly Italian text that would make even Lady Cassandra blush. I gave the cup and the smelly bottle to nanny, not being worth much. Nanny gets excited over such small things, reallye, not being worth much.

My firste succumbant was a very, very rancid peasant from the village walking by on the way to labours. How it complained – Backache! Toothache! (all three) Bad Humours! And it had the woots!

A wicke of cheese convinced it that my prodding its naked rear-side with my needles was a noblee and worthey cause.

With Sister Mairi-Jean standing by in case a needle wente too deep I followed the rolled up instructions (now unrolled) precisely, trying to recreate the image on the peasant’s skin using the provided porcy-pins. I gave one final jabbe.

The peasant proved to have some Moxy, and fired up a series of rantes that have not been heard since Lord Guntram accidently weaved Lady Jehanne’s Lindquistringes into Blue Eternity.

This ‘Moxibustion’ of its was hearde right down the street by the local vicar (as I would find out that Sundaye)

The image that remained on the peasant’s backe was a work of Arte, even Lady Myfanwy with her best brushes would surely fail to recreate my undulating lines and colours. I felt I had made my marke.

Nanny’s Heavenly Flowers.