Zhi giggled, the sound muffled behind her hand. It wasn't quite what anyone could call melodic, but the sound warbled up and down. Musical, if not precisely pleasant. "Th'nice parts, th'parts wi'legal merchants an' their goods, that's all ruled by th'Admiral. So th'darker bits, th'ones where people get gil off th'good little merchants? Ye don't see it. That happens wi' smiles an' nice smellin', fancy rooms."
She skipped down the last few steps, hopping off and landing on her toes. She pivoted to look at Flit, her face flushed. There was a lightness to her that hadn't been there in his room; a sense of amusement hovered about the trembling of her lips, as if she stopped herself from laughing by force.
"Things ain't lookin' ugly there. It's all gilded an' shinin'. Ye have dig real deep an' look real hard t'spot th'rot, an' if yer not careful ye'll be floatin' off th'docks. But most o'th'city? It's ugly t'look at. Ye don't have t'look t'see it rottin', an' there ain't much t'try t'hide it. But ye have t'know where t'go t'see that part o'the city."
They were out of the stairwell. The sun had crested the horizon and broken free from it, light hitting the water and scattering a vicious glare that was nigh unavoidable.
"It's broken up 'twixt gangs and famliies o'this an' that. They control th'money. They put their fingers in it, an' they make th'rules in some parts o'the city. But there's rules, see? They treat wi' pirates an' smugglers, an' there's things that go too far."
She strode the docks like she owned them, her brassy strut ruined only by the horrific, giant wince her face had turned into. Zhi had never quite learned how to get along with brightness.
"Things always change, Flit. Remember that."
She glanced at him, shading her face so she could give him a solid stare.
"There's folk what make their livin' peddlin' 'twixt th'groups an' straddlin' th'dos and don'ts. They talk t'people, know people, an' keep a step ahead. Dangerous livin', but good gil." She stopped suddenly, turned to face him. She shaded her face again, and as she looked at him she wondered if he understood the significance of this little talk, of what it meant. For her. For him.
Her grin was cheerful. "How good are ye at fawnin'?"
She skipped down the last few steps, hopping off and landing on her toes. She pivoted to look at Flit, her face flushed. There was a lightness to her that hadn't been there in his room; a sense of amusement hovered about the trembling of her lips, as if she stopped herself from laughing by force.
"Things ain't lookin' ugly there. It's all gilded an' shinin'. Ye have dig real deep an' look real hard t'spot th'rot, an' if yer not careful ye'll be floatin' off th'docks. But most o'th'city? It's ugly t'look at. Ye don't have t'look t'see it rottin', an' there ain't much t'try t'hide it. But ye have t'know where t'go t'see that part o'the city."
They were out of the stairwell. The sun had crested the horizon and broken free from it, light hitting the water and scattering a vicious glare that was nigh unavoidable.
"It's broken up 'twixt gangs and famliies o'this an' that. They control th'money. They put their fingers in it, an' they make th'rules in some parts o'the city. But there's rules, see? They treat wi' pirates an' smugglers, an' there's things that go too far."
She strode the docks like she owned them, her brassy strut ruined only by the horrific, giant wince her face had turned into. Zhi had never quite learned how to get along with brightness.
"Things always change, Flit. Remember that."
She glanced at him, shading her face so she could give him a solid stare.
"There's folk what make their livin' peddlin' 'twixt th'groups an' straddlin' th'dos and don'ts. They talk t'people, know people, an' keep a step ahead. Dangerous livin', but good gil." She stopped suddenly, turned to face him. She shaded her face again, and as she looked at him she wondered if he understood the significance of this little talk, of what it meant. For her. For him.
Her grin was cheerful. "How good are ye at fawnin'?"
