““Lower River, low-class peasants. Fain is still smiling wide at me, smug as a contented cat. There’s an anticipatory gleam in his eye, and I realize that he’s waiting for my thanks. “I’m leaving,” I tell him succinctly. “Thank you for your assistance, but I need to find my family.” I pin Fain with a polite but level stare, my heart pounding out my hurt. “And I wouldn’t want to sully your tent further with my rustic, peasant ways.””
