There's no single point at which it becomes clear that we've entered the serpentfolk's quarter. As we walk, the number of serpentfolk in the crowd gradually increases until Fa'aun are the minority. Due to their serpentine nature and long tails, a serpentfolk takes up more space when slithering around. An individual in a crowd is simple enough for people to step around, but in their own quarter, the traffic is naturally forced into lanes that are impossible to cross without stepping over someone's tail or waiting for people to either pass or pause to let you through.

"Pardon me, sorry," Talla says as she delicately picks her way through the crowd.

The nearby serpentfolk wordlessly part around us, a few nodding their heads in greeting as they pass, but perfectly comfortable making space for us. I try not to flinch as one of them passes a bit closer.

"Greetings, my lady!" a nearby vendor calls out from behind their stall. "What brings you to our humble corner of the city?"

Their accent is odd, though somehow less strange than Allison's. They speak with a slight lisp, but the S sounds aren't as pronounced as I expected. A pedestrian pauses to let us pass as we approach the vendor, and I return their nod before they move on.

"Lady Baanu," the serpentfolk greets her, bowing their head. "Forgive this servant, but I do not know your name."

"It's no trouble," she waves them off. "I'm Talla Goa Baanu, and this is Maev."

My blood goes cold as the snake person's predatory eyes lock on to mine.

"Well met. I've not seen your kind before."

I give them a well-practiced bow and a winning smile.

"You're the first of your kind I've met too!" I reply. "You can call me Allison."

"Alsson?" they attempt.

"Close enough! What can I call you?"

"I am Sszlaw."

"Sizlaw?" I attempt.

"Close enough!" they echo with a low chuckle. "Come, sit! Let us speak if you are not too busy."

They indicate a few oddly-shaped pillars with round platforms sticking out, kind of like a cat tree.

"Apologies, the seats are made for our bodies, but they should still hold your weight."

I shrug and find a relatively comfy perch on one of the platforms, and Talla follows my lead.

"I don't suppose you know a good place to eat around here?" I ask, knowing full well that their stall smells strongly of cooked meat.

They give me a wide, sharp-toothed grin. "I might just. What can I get you?"

"I don't know. I'm new around here," I reply. "What do you recommend?"

"What I sell is ssamsha. Any ingredients you like, wrapped together in your choice of an outer shell."

They flip open their stall, releasing a delicious smelling cloud of steam. A few passing serpentfolk pause to look, their forked tongues flicking out briefly, but they move on when they see Talla and I sitting here.

"Uh oh...are we messing up your business?" I ask.

"Not at all," the vendor assures me. "It is always an honor to serve a noble lady and her guests. And, perhaps, you will tip well, yes?"

Talla sighs and nods. "For the record, I'm not that rich, but if our presence is turning away other customers I can afford to pay a little extra."

"You are very generous," Sszlaw says with a bow.

I look over the options—a familiar spread of unfamiliar meats, vegetables, and sauces. Plus a few that I actually know by now.

"I know that's stingroot, and I think that's...fat bird?" I point out the familiar containers. "And is that satsi?"

The aromatic and garlicky yogurt sauce is rapidly becoming a favorite of mine.

"Indeed! The Goa family's specialty is well-loved among our people," the vendor beams. "Though it is difficult to taste the air for hours after eating it." Their tongue flicks out for a moment in demonstration. "Worth it."

"Do you mind if I sample some of the stuff I don't recognize?"

"By all means, miss!"

While I'm doing that, Talla assembles a wrap for herself—some sort of grain that looks like a cross between barley and rice, some colorful vegetables that look like they might be pickled, and a generous helping of satsi all wrapped up in a sturdy green leaf of some kind. No meat, despite that being the bulk of what we ate on the road. Or maybe because of that.

Well, more for me! I decide to experiment a bit, piling up some of those pickled vegetables with some greasy and slightly gamey meat, then covering it all with a red sauce that has the look and consistency of ketchup, but tastes more like the refined essence of a bell pepper.

For the wrap, I go with a different kind of leaf. A bit crunchier, like lettuce, but still sturdy enough to hold it all together. No extra carbs for now, though I'm interested in trying the grains and breads. Considering how much I saw in the farms on the way in, we haven't actually eaten much of it since arriving here. Aside from those crackers, of course.

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Sszlaw assembles it all for me, and I watch with rapt fascination as their larger upper arms hold the leaf open while they use the smaller lower arms to do all the fine work. Now that I get a closer look, I can see that the lower arms have more articulated digits, but only four of them, while the upper arms end in cumbersome claws that probably aren't good for anything more complex than holding, lifting, and maybe the occasional bit of violence.

They fold their upper arms behind their back as they hand me my food.

"This is really good!" I exclaim between mouthfuls. "I can't remember the last time I had a [lettuce] wrap."

Literally. I cannot remember.

"I'm glad it pleases you, miss," Sszlaw beams. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Let's chat!" I offer. "Tell me about yourself. Is Sizlaw your only name, or do you have family names too? Also, Talla told me not to ask, but I'm really curious about what your people are called in your own language."

They chuckle. "Szzlaw is my only name. We do not have families in the same way as Fa'aun. As for the name of our people, I'm told that Fa'aun find it difficult to pronounce, but the truth is..." They give me another toothy grin. "I can't pronounce it either! It is long and cumbersome, and even native speakers of our language do not use it often. To us, we are simply 'the people' and to you, 'serpentfolk' suffices."

"'Even' native speakers?" I ask, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Ah! You've caught me! Indeed, I know some of my mother tongue—enough to get by—but I was born and raised here in Stebaari, and Fa'aun is the language I know best."

"Huh. I guess that makes sense," I concede. "Next question—if it's not too forward, are you a man or a woman, and how does one tell?"

Talla chokes on her food. "Allie!"

"Hahaha, it's alright, it's alright," Sszlaw waves her off. "My lady worries because my people are not prone to answer such questions, but it is not because we are insulted by them. Whether one lays eggs, or what their role is in mating—that is a trivial detail and a private matter. We can tell each other apart by the taste of the air, but others cannot. Nor do they need to. After all, you're not planning to mate with me, are you?"

I shrug as I finish chewing another mouthful of the delicious wrap. "Not on a first date."

Talla nearly dies again while Sszlaw just chuckles.

"I fear you are too bold for your company, young woman," they admonish me. "Let us spare her poor noble sensibilities, shall we?"

I cast a sidelong glance at Talla, still coughing and trying to regain her composure. Interesting that she barely batted an eye at Maggie's open crush, but almost chokes to death at a bit of casual flirting with Sszlaw. It's not like I'm even being serious about it, that was just a really low hanging fruit. Maybe there's some cultural cue that I'm missing, but I really hope it's not racism.

"Fair enough. I had more questions about your homeland, but if you're from here, I'll spare you."

"It's not as though I cannot answer," they admit. "I suspect I know more than most Fa'aun, but it is all second hand."

"That's fine, you've already put up with me enough. I do have one other question, though." I hold out my hand, palm facing down, and spread out my fingers. "I'm told you have clippers for trimming your claws? I need something like that, but probably a lot smaller."

Sszlaw takes one of their larger clawed hands out from behind their back and wiggles them in demonstration. "Much smaller, yes? Worry not—you can find what you are looking for here."

They hold out their own, smaller pair of hands. "Our working hands have smaller, vestigial claws, see? The tools we use to maintain them should serve your purpose, I think."

Indeed, amidst the mottled black and brown scales of their hand, hard to see before they were pointed out, are little dark nubs protruding from the tips of their fingers.

"We clip and file them, so that they don't get in the way. Though a few like to keep them sharp for a bit of extra purchase."

"That's perfect! Where can I get some of those tools for myself?"

"Hmm, since you've been a good customer and an interesting conversation, I will give you some," they offer. "I happen to have an extra set. Never used."

Their expressions are hard to read, but I feel a hint of sadness in their tone as they say that.

"What happened?"

They hesitate for a moment, then shake their head. "Nothing worth sullying a good conversation over. I had anticipated the need, but it never came to pass."

"I won't press if you're not comfortable, but I don't mind if it's a heavy subject."

Sszlaw's eyes flicker nervously over to Talla for a moment—the first sign of visible discomfort they've shown over her presence.

"I was to raise a hatchling," they explain somberly. "Not mine, as you understand it, but what you call adoption is more common among my people than raising one's own hatchlings. I was honored—excited even! Alas, it was not to be. An illness spread through the nursery and that entire clutch was lost, among others."

"Hold on," Violet interjects. "Is this the same illness? I thought everybody was saying it was mild and that nobody had died from it."

I furrow my brow and look over at Talla, whose concerned expression matches my own.

"Is that the same fever that's been going around among the Fa'aun?" I ask. "We just came from a clinic that's been overrun with cases."

"I believe so, yes," Sszlaw says, nodding. "It is quite a bit worse for my people. Our bodies cannot fight off the illness in the same way. It's hard to know we even have it until we begin to waste away."

"They don't get fevers," Talla mutters to herself. "Or runny noses."

"Just so."

"What's been done to stop the spread?" she asks.

"I do not know," Sszlaw admits. "In truth, I'm not sure whether anybody else is aware that the disease has struck us too. Those who get sick stay at home and try not to waste energy."

"And since it looks totally different, most doctors don't even acknowledge that it's the same disease...godshit!" Talla swears.

The serpentfolk flinches at her expletive and hurriedly bows their head. "Apologies, my lady! I did not mean to ruin your lunch."

"No, don't apologize, please," Talla sighs. "This is a huge oversight, and I'm glad you brought it to our attention."

"I did not say anything because I feared what might happen if the spread of the disease was blamed on my people," Sszlaw says. "Please, my lady, I beg your discretion in this."

"Oh! Oh no, I didn't even think of that!" she admits. "Alright, I promise I'll try to handle this discreetly, but I'm more worried about Fa'aun bringing the disease here than the other way around. It's a minor inconvenience to us, but potentially deadly to you."

"Thank you, my lady," they reply with a bow. "Miss Allison, I will fetch you those tools. And please, accept your food on me. It is a small price to pay if Lady Talla can save my people from further plague."

"We'll do our best, right?" I ask, turning to Talla.

She nods resolutely. "Of course. I'm glad we came here today. I shudder to think what might have happened if this was overlooked for any longer."

Me too. I'm shuddering about how bad it's gotten already. If anything, I just hope we aren't too late to stop an epidemic.

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