His taunting stung Chenaya out of her shock. “Let them try,” she snapped. “I can
…”
Jubal smiled, watching her face as she stopped in mid-sentence, hearing her own arrogance for the first time.
“You see? And that’s while you’re sitting there in a blanket after being dumped in the middle of the bay. My guess is that whoever did it to you was merely annoyed. If they had been really mad, they would have dropped you farther out.
Yet still you persist in feeling that it doesn’t matter who you offend.”
Chenaya was hunched forward now, hugging the blanket about her as if it could ward off words and ideas as it had the chill. “Am I really that disliked?” she said without looking up.
Jubal felt a moment of pity for the girl. He had also gone through a period when he wanted friends desperately, only to find that his efforts were ignored or misinterpreted. A part of him wanted to comfort Chenaya, but instead he bore on relentlessly, taking advantage of her sagging defenses.
“You’ve given people little reason to like you. There is new wealth in town from our new Beysib residents, but the citizens still remember how hard money is to come by. You flaunt your wealth, deliberately inviting attack from those who are still desperate, then use your skills or your luck to kill them. Were one of them to succeed in slitting your throat some dark night, I doubt there would be much sympathy expressed anywhere. Most would feel that you deserved it, were asking for it in fact. I would hazard a further guess that there are even those who are secretly hoping it will happen, to teach an object lesson to Rankan nobles who underestimate the dangers in this town. Then, there is your sexual appetite. The tastes in this town are varied and often jaded, but even the lowest whore walking the streets near the Promise of Heaven can approach a man without grabbing his crotch in public.”