Solid respectable citizens,  Discreet, whores.  Women who would be annoyed to be called such to their faces,  to say the least.<br/><br/>And seated in a  chair backed as close to the converging walls of a corner as she could push it was  a tall rawboned woman, muscular for her sex.  Black hair, very dark eyes that seemed as cold as the obsidian chips they resembled.  She didn't even pretend not to be watching the room.  She had a view of the front door, the kitchen door, the stairs, the bar... everything.<br/><br/>She was polite enough, but once she had her bowl of stew, a mug of beer, she made clear that she didn't want to be bothered.  Polite enough to the working girls.  Civil to the citizens.<br/><br/>The clientele left her alone.  A prudent thing to do with an armed woman who might go off at any moment.