The Duchess of the Shallows by Neil McGarry, Daniel Ravipinto Page B

But there was nothing for it; Deneys' own garret was here, paid for by the guildmaster who liked his kept boy close at hand and yet prudently distant from his own home and family. And since Brenn was currently living with Deneys, they'd gone through Trades Gate at the north end of the market, then started the long climb up Craftman's Lane, a steep switchback road that zig-zagged through the district. Halfway up, Lysander had started complaining, and she'd decided some conversation would keep his mind off the climb.
    "You know Trades is the newest district, right?"
    He mopped sweat from his brow with a sleeve, and Duchess had to keep from rolling her eyes. "The damned city was ancient before the Rodaasi got here. How new can it be?" he muttered as they resumed their climb.
    She laughed. " Relatively new, then. The city hasn't been redistricted in hundreds of years, but I'm sure Trades was the last one."
    "So where did the craftsmen work before that? It's not like the city could have survived without them."
    "The Shallows, I think. Butchers, tanners, dyers, and all the rest."
    Lysander waved a hand dramatically in front of his nose. "Ugh! That must have been awful! The Shallows smells bad enough as it is."
    "That's why they moved, actually." They crossed one of the district's many man-made canals, which powered the waterwheels used by various tradesmen. The bridge was not as well maintained as it might be; many had been burned during the War of the Quills, and had not always been rebuilt with care.
    He glanced at her playfully. "And I'll bet you a handful of florin you know who made them move," he teased, without rancor. He was long accustomed to the little bits of city history she'd picked up from her father's books, and bless his heart, had never asked the source of her knowledge.
    She giggled and poked him in the ribs. "You'd win. It was Empress Agiri."
    Lysander hooted. "What kind of name is that?"
    "The kind you didn't make fun of if you wanted to keep your head." By now the air was full of the sound of trade: the ringing of hammers on metal, the lowing of cows and the bleating of sheep, and the shouts of apprentices, journeymen and masters alike. The twisting streets, unsuitable for wagons, were crowded with wheelbarrows and three-wheeled carts, and they had to weave a careful way through the traffic. By nightfall, the area would be quiet and occupied only by patrolling blackarms. She'd rarely been in Trades; it was too hard to maneuver the bread cart around the streets there, and the prospective profit too meager. Most of the craftsmen went to the market for their bread. Noam had always talked about buying a new cart, so he could cater to the workers and save them the walk, but...well, none of that was her concern, anymore.
    "Well, she's been dead Mayu knows how long, but my apologies to Her Highness. Why would she order the craftsmen to move? It's not like she could smell them way up there in Garden."
    " She thought she could, and since the emperor doted on her that was good enough for him to order all the craftsmen to move out of the Shallows. Well, actually, he gave them a choice: move to the new district or set up their shops in the imperial dungeons."
    "And they replied, 'You know, I've always wanted to work in the steepest and rockiest part of the city!'" They'd reached the crest of the Lane, and looking down they could make out, far below, the gate in the outer wall of the city, widened long ago so that cattle, goats, and other livestock could be driven directly from outlying farms into the district. They made their way down the other side of the rise. "All because the Empress decides the smell is too much." He shook his head as they turned down an alleyway. "I rather prefer our Violana's attitude: Leave Me Alone." They reached a narrow wooden staircase. "Anyway, enough of politics. We're here."
    Deneys' apartments were less shabby and more roomy than Lysander's, but he seemed eager to be rid of Brenn all the same.