The market in Harthem was nothing like the market in Giligha. It was wilder, rowdier, and there was something less restrained about the way people had fun in the city. It took Misa a while to figure it out, but when she watched two drunken men swaggering in the crowd with their arms locked around each other’s shoulders, singing a crass, old melody, it clicked.
In Giligha, such behavior would have been deprecated, especially because getting this drunk in public so early in the evening would forever mark a person as a drunkard. There was also a lack of suitors, Misa was pleased to notice. It seemed in Harthem, the people were more inclined to enjoy themselves than appear respectable and proper. Her father’s eyes would have bulged.
“Look!” Misa grabbed Royle’s arm and pointed at
