"Perhaps were it a fishing boat. I learnt to braid nets when I was a little girl."

Her mother would set her free in the markets in the city, let her race through the wharves, the spare, forgotten princess, fancy dresses stained with mud and dirt, sparkling with fish scales when the fisherman taught her to filet the catch, carefully plucking bones free with her child's fingers. She was deft at weaving ropes and grasses together, knotting them to make nets for the next catch, fingers scraped raw and bloodied when she was done.

Not an activity one would expect from a lady.

"I am happy for work for my passage."