He continued to lie in place, still breathing heavily. I tried to keep myself calm. Then, with a sigh, he said, "I have need of a certain stone that I once possessed. It would allow me to leave this bed, despite my current illness. My problem is that it was not made in this realm, but by a human, and only a human may handle it. The herb vendor will tell you where you can find it. If you would fetch me this stone, I would tell you what I can." "Of course we will fetch you the stone," Nepthys assured him. "You have our thanks." Outside, the thing at the herb cart nodded when we mentioned the stone. He told Nepthys the name of a woman who lived on a certain street, and we set off. When we reached the street, I expected some sort of temple, or a row of antiquaries, or at least a sleazy, black-market relics merchant. Instead, it looked like we were in the red-light district: women who probably wanted more than our money eyed us from the alleys. Nepthys didn't need to warn me not to speak to them. He took us to the door of a building like a short pagoda that had a sign hanging over it showing a face with hands uplifted, like a saint under G d's light, and handcuffed. Inside, the entrance room was hung with bright silks and scattered with velvet cushions. Sails of obscene orange and a green that insulted springtime hung draped across reds that might have been sensual elsewhere but here were only offensive. A large woman, similarly decorated, quickly drifted up to us. "Good evening, gentlemen," she said. "May I invite you to have a cup of tea?" "No, thank you," said Nepthys, "we regret that we cannot take up your kind offer. Are you the proprietor of this shop?" "Yes," answered the woman. "I am Madame Entera, at your service.

Who is Madame Entera?

To say her face fell would do a disservice to Tasha and to literature. (Allow me my self-indulgences as you would those of a dying man -- when I convince my mindsmith to permit the wipe, there will be another Bernardo Flynn, one who knows no more of Tasha Cortez or Vega IV than he reads here.) Her brows drew together, creasing the lovely, caramel-colored skin around her eyes and showing the pattern for an old woman's wrinkles on her forehead. Her lower lip (a trifle too narrow for her face, perhaps her only physical flaw) thrust forward slightly as she started to speak. She caught herself, slid her jaw infinitesimally back into place, and said, "You don't like it?" I laughed. What could I do? I clapped her shoulder to show I was not laughing at her. "Like it? I hate it, despise it, abhor it! It's gaudy, graceless, pretentious -- That house is an affront to taste and intelligence. I should buy it to raze it, but I am not so kind-hearted. I might, however, rent it." I think she only heard the last words of my speech. "You will?" "It amuses me. Show me around, and then I shall decide." "Of course, Senor Flynn." "And stop calling me 'senor'. Not even Los Mundos is so polite. Call me Bernardo."

Why does Bernardo despise the house?

Greta ran to the corner with her older brother Tony. He had money for the ice cream truck in his pocket and she was very happy. The ice cream truck had been parked at the curb waiting for children for a very long time. The ice cream truck driver thought that no more children were coming to get ice cream so he started pulling away from the curb when they got to the corner. They yelled. They screamed, "Stop! Stop!" and jumped up and down on the side walk trying to get him to see them. The driver of the truck saw them, waved at them and smiled, pulled back to the curb and opened his truck up so that they could see everything that he had for sale. They were so excited. They saw some new treats. Tony wanted to try something new. He got an ice cream sundae with chocolate ice cream and nuts. He almost got a snow cone. Greta looked at everything that the ice cream truck had. She saw candy, ice cream cones, snow cones, and everything else. It all looked so good. But after looking at everything, she wanted to get an ice cream sandwich. She got the ice cream sandwich. She bit into it and smiled. It tasted so good. She felt so happy. Her brother, Tony, was happy too. He bit into his ice cream cone sundae and grinned. They walked home with their ice cream and told their mom about how close they came to not getting their ice cream at all. Their mom was happy that the truck had stopped for them. She said that they were very lucky to have gotten to the curb before the ice cream truck left.
What did Greta and Tony do to get the ice cream drivers attention?