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“THEY’RE CRIMINALS, GHALD,” Thamis insisted. “They pollute the city; I find a sewer to be an appropriate comparison.” “Ah, ‘they.’” Edian soured and leaned imposingly, his shoulders squared. “Southerners?” Captain Thamis subconsciously pushed up on his toes in his boots, but caught himself before his heels lifted from the ground. “Don’t insult me, captain, your family is from the Crag, same as mine.” “There’s always another ‘they’, though, and that kind of thinking never sat right with me.” “Well, even if I were speaking as generally as you suggest, it’s not an uncommon opinion, your own notwithstanding, sir.” Thamis swallowed against a dry tongue, realizing that he’d maybe had too much to drink, and that he’d bought himself short-lived bravery without accounting for the cost of open hostility. “My apologies,” Thamis muttered before Edian could respond, relieved to see that his compunction was enough to at least stop Captain Ghald’s frightening glower. “I trust that the Advocates will, like they have before, find me beyond reproach.” Taken from part three of “The Fourth Sigil” Book One of “The Seeker”