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Daventree hadn’t been sure what to make of Rannall at first. The man was clearly a product of the districts, and at times his manner was positively off-putting. But then he’d lean in close, his eyes ablaze, and speak quiet words that reached deep inside, the very tone of his speech setting Daventree’s mind at rest.
“You’re a good man,” Rannall said, his breath pleasant—something, apparently, to do with the sticks he chewed so often. “After all you’ve endured, you still see the good in people. That’s something worth holding on to. Too many people judge everyone on account of the few who have wronged them, and then the world falls apart. We need those with your outlook, Daventree, to remind us that people are generally good, that we’re all simply doing whatever’s needed to sur
