Paskflaur listened to Armello's conversation with mounting dislike. In addition to his accent, there was something in his tone, a certain pretention, perhaps, that grated against her. Plague doctors, honestly. That was a problem for foreign lands, where beasts believed in superstition over fact and put their faith in so-called doctors in costume.
"Respectfully, Armello, you are in no danger in my home. I think you will find that beasts here are more frightened of your current visage than of whatever lies beneath. No one likes to be tended to by a grim crow and unless you brought your plague with you, you will find no use for it in these lands." She offered a placating smile before moving to the wall of dried herbs and bottled potions. "Your mask, please, and your method of payment. Normally, I accept trades in labor and goods, but seeing as you are a traveller, I will take coin. The raw herbs will cost two gold coins; the tinctures and salves ten."
The vixen set the book on her countertop and waited.
((Not sure what the value of a gold coin in the series has been given; Pask's prices are high but not unreasonable.))