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No one asks to live in squalor, Tris. It is just that squalor is all that is left to them by those with money.”
He was the kind of man who never just stood, but draped himself on air.
“There are adult mages, rejoicing in great power and knowledge, who would kill for the chance to work for Dedicate Crane,” she informed him. Then her mouth twitched. “Of course, they don’t know him personally.”
“Because no one who’s truly your friend would want you to feel bad for knowing them.” That struck home. He would need to think it over, of course, but he had the sense that she was in the right of it.
Crane looked up and saw that not only was Briar watching, but Rosethorn as well. “Do I afford you amusement?” he wanted to know. “Yes,” Rosethorn told him immediately.
“I am so sick of this rubbish!” cried Rosethorn, glaring at him. “I swear, I’m going to float away in a sea of horse urine!” “Oh, no, love,” said Lark, taking the cup from Briar. “I assure you, horse urine is much more strongly flavored.”
“Most disasters are fast, and big. You can see everyone else’s life got overturned when yours did. Houses are smashed, livestock’s dead. But plagues isolate people. They shut themselves inside while disease takes a life at a time, day after day. It adds up. Whole cities break under the load of what was lost. People stop trusting each other, because you don’t know who’s sick.”
Daja was a Trader: they held it was mad to argue when the sick thought that Death approached. Denials only told Death here was someone who would be missed, Death’s favorite kind of victim.
