Reblogged from Tallis Steelyard:

As I walk the streets of Port Naain, it strikes me how people try and look the part. Setting aside the mercenary horseman cantering by, you have the butcher with his blood spattered apron. You have the professional mourner with his dark clothing and his hair artistically disarranged. Then there is the dunnykin diver over there; you can easily spot him, nobody stands within six feet of him and that’s a crowded street. Even I have to look the part. The leading poet of his generation has to dress with casual elegance and adopt an insouciant air.

Orthando the Wise was somebody who took this lesson to heart. He started life as Orthan Shornfuddle and worked as a short-order clerk. Still even then he dressed appropriately. He wore the white pillbox hat, the long brown overall and the inkstained leather glove on his right hand. I have been told that he worked at the junction of Wittle road and Ropewalk; sitting on his stool with his trusty lap-desk.

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