The capital's lower district smelled like fish guts and cheap ale.
Narrow alleys wound between crooked buildings that leaned against each other like drunk men propping each other up. Laundry lines crisscrossed overhead, dripping gray water onto the cobblestones below. Merchants hawked wares from wooden carts, their voices competing with the clang of a blacksmith and the squeal of pigs being herded through a side street.
Two commoners stood near a fruit cart, elbows touching. One nudged the other.
"Who do you see?"
"Where?"
"There. Coming down the road."
The second man squinted. His eyes went wide. His mouth fell open. A piece of half-chewed apple fell from his lip.
"Why have she covered her face? After revealing so much, I can even see her panty."
The woman beside him, presumably his wife, slapped the back of his head. The sound was sharp. He flinched. Rubbed his skull.
"What are you looking at, pig?"
"Nothing, nothing, I was just..."
