Styrmsthal Tyrbsyn walked darker streets than was his own custom. Away from the rowdy stretches off the docks, lower than Barnacles' Reach, districts blighted with resentment and spite where every word was equal parts whisper and spit. No word among the wealthy, no word among the poor, no word he understood from mainlanders and foreigners; these were the last places to look and the last places to hope to find her.Â
There was very little air in those environs and what wind did blow seemed composed of a breeze of rumors and threats. Styrm, somewhat injudiciously, added rumors of his own to the confluence. He was not a man for delicacy, and these were not streets trod by delicate sorts. From lips to ears to lips, miserable tributaries flowing into and feeding the reeking river of breath that whirled and rushed through the piss-wet alleys and broken windows all around.
Big roe's got information. Little kitten, broken tail.
______________
Amongst the cacophonous din that was the undercurrent of the Lominsan word-trade, another whisper began to weave its way, quieter than the big roegadyn's indiscreet advertisements, more practiced, worm-like, the sort of whisper that was loud to knowing ears. All the more striking for its contents.
In those most illiterate stretches of ignored ignorance, someone was looking for a book.
Pay's handsome. Good fellow.
There was very little air in those environs and what wind did blow seemed composed of a breeze of rumors and threats. Styrm, somewhat injudiciously, added rumors of his own to the confluence. He was not a man for delicacy, and these were not streets trod by delicate sorts. From lips to ears to lips, miserable tributaries flowing into and feeding the reeking river of breath that whirled and rushed through the piss-wet alleys and broken windows all around.
Big roe's got information. Little kitten, broken tail.
______________
Amongst the cacophonous din that was the undercurrent of the Lominsan word-trade, another whisper began to weave its way, quieter than the big roegadyn's indiscreet advertisements, more practiced, worm-like, the sort of whisper that was loud to knowing ears. All the more striking for its contents.
In those most illiterate stretches of ignored ignorance, someone was looking for a book.
Pay's handsome. Good fellow.
