That smile. It was aimed at her, full of understanding and goodwill. Something twisted inside Zhavi as she looked over at Lalataru, and she eased back into Joz's timid nature.
Idiot.
She looked back down at the pages, spread like the ocean before her. Opaque, dangerous. Too dangerous. A long time? A long time, and she didn't even have a guarantee that she would be able to use the power. Her, a gutterborn, using the arcanists' power to rule over the gangs?
Yer such a ruttin' idiot, Zhio.
Hope belonged to Joz and other halfwitted scrags like her. Zhi knew better. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago, and she was much too wise in the ways of the city to go back on it now. Leave off her job? Zhi never quit on a job, not unless she was offered better gil. Would Lalataru's compassion feed her? Would his kindness last past his own needs? No. Of course it wouldn't. He'd already proven he wasn't stupid, and she would just be underestimating him if she paid him the disrespect of thinking him some toothless old scut. All she had to do was get him to drop his guard long enough for her to grab his book, and then hide long enough to escape his wrath.
Her grip tightened on the grease pencil she held, and she nodded. "I'll keep goin', then," she muttered, and bent back to her task.
Gaining Lalataru's trust meant listening to him, and being diligent. So she would keep trying, until she ran out of paper, or time, or he chased her home for the day. She would ignore her body's complaints, and she would finish the rotten job and find out the secrets her employer didn't want her to know. She'd do everything she always did. She'd be ruthless, and practical. Just like always.
But she still couldn't quite smother the little flicker in her gut that wanted more.
Idiot.
She looked back down at the pages, spread like the ocean before her. Opaque, dangerous. Too dangerous. A long time? A long time, and she didn't even have a guarantee that she would be able to use the power. Her, a gutterborn, using the arcanists' power to rule over the gangs?
Yer such a ruttin' idiot, Zhio.
Hope belonged to Joz and other halfwitted scrags like her. Zhi knew better. She'd learned that lesson a long time ago, and she was much too wise in the ways of the city to go back on it now. Leave off her job? Zhi never quit on a job, not unless she was offered better gil. Would Lalataru's compassion feed her? Would his kindness last past his own needs? No. Of course it wouldn't. He'd already proven he wasn't stupid, and she would just be underestimating him if she paid him the disrespect of thinking him some toothless old scut. All she had to do was get him to drop his guard long enough for her to grab his book, and then hide long enough to escape his wrath.
Her grip tightened on the grease pencil she held, and she nodded. "I'll keep goin', then," she muttered, and bent back to her task.
Gaining Lalataru's trust meant listening to him, and being diligent. So she would keep trying, until she ran out of paper, or time, or he chased her home for the day. She would ignore her body's complaints, and she would finish the rotten job and find out the secrets her employer didn't want her to know. She'd do everything she always did. She'd be ruthless, and practical. Just like always.
But she still couldn't quite smother the little flicker in her gut that wanted more.
