"Yes sir, that's what they all say." He chuckled. "Now then. Where do you come from?"
"We… are not from WaterWay," Chang Chang said quickly. "We came in on a caravan. Our village was dying. Everyone was leaving, so we thought we'd come here, to start anew."
Bao nodded gravely. "Aye, that's the story among many of us. And here we are"—he waved his rag-draped arms expansively—"in WaterWay mighty, a city that looks precious little like a city and smells a bit like the rotting bowels of a once-fine ship. Alas, the bards, how cruelly they exaggerate!"
There was a smattering of applause and rude gestures from the beggar folk. Shouts of, "Save it for the real performers!" Boa said throwing up his hands and laughing. "Eat hearty, all of you," he said, and he waddled off to find his own bowl. "We're fed and clothed and grateful, and the troupe's comin' in. What more could kings ask for?"
