Well, I've got a deva to make a dress for in one night.
One of the only thing that can drown out your own
problems is watching someone else's, and in Sigil, we do
that alot... 'specially around here. The
Hangman's Court isn't all
that far away, a well-lanned cutter can get there and
back in an hour and a half from my kip, and that's
usually what I do for lunch... have a walk up there,
watch some poor berk get himself hung, and walk back. It
may be kind of gruesome, but watching a sod die gets you
to thinking what life's really all about... it's good for
your mind kinda, when you live like us.
Anyhow, I'm at the Court now... a
cobblestone square beaten to smoothness by the countless
feet of folks on their last marches, and the others who
came to watch. It's a bare place, there's practically
nothing here except for the lifeless tree, which has a
little fence around it to keep folks from prodding it's
fruit, if you catch what I mean. Anyway, there's no
execution going today, which is a good thing I suppose...
less crime maybe. The dirty cobblestone sea is almost
empty, there's a few like myself having a bit of a snack,
but otherwise, it's too grim a place to attract much
From here a cutter can see most of
the highups in the Lady's Ward strutting about with their
fine rags on, showing off to all the other rich berks.
They where their finely designed, poorly made outfits,
and talk about helping the poor folks of the Cage,
bringing in order, and feeding us. Those berks outta sod
off, they don't know what it's like to live here. It's
the 'highups' that give us a bad name as being arrogant
and only caring about ourselves. They aren't true members
of the Cage's society, they belong to their own society,
a society of clowns and puppets on strings... the poor
berks, anytime now it'll come crashing right down on
them, and the Lady'll exact her punishment. Oh well,
there's a hope. Maybe that deva'll get struck down too,
and I won't have to make her sodding dress. Luckily
enough, I have quite a bit of some good, deep crimson
satin, that gold fiber I need to track down
1 Hour after
Peak. After a walk through
the bleak Lady's Ward, which is a completely unique place
all in itself from the rest of the City, I arrived at
Queen Anne's Needlework, a shop that sells needles of all
sizes, clothe of any cut, and thread of any material. The
place is a building built of of stone painted an awful
lavender colour, with large purple curtains hanging in
the huge glass window in front. Inside, there're aisles
and aisles of carpeted floor, lined with many shelves of
the most beautiful ingredients for nice clothing on the
I picked out a spool of thread made
of liquid gold, and brought it to the counter, where I
had to pay out 2 jinx worth of greens and stingers. With
a look of distain, the berk at the counter handed me the
thread, and watched me as I walked out. They're always
out to get ya, the wealthy ones. They think everyone that
doesn't wear the day's bizarre fashion and keeps their
purse tight is a thief or a barmy. Ah well, the powers'
mercy on the swine... I have a long walk and a long day
Walking back to
the Market: Sigil at Midday. Like
I said a bit earlier, the bleak Lady's Ward is unique of
the rest of the City. Whereas the Market buzzes with
business, the Clerk's Ward with pencil pushers running
about with memos, the Hive with barmies, and soforth, the
Lady's is silent. It's a cold and clinical place, where
folks usually walk slow and look at the ground, not
wanting to draw attention. It could be that way because
the Law boys make their homes around here, but it's more
likely that it's because folks get uncomfortable around
highups. You heard me earlier, what with that deva, I
couldn't keep my tongue steady. Folks around here are
just plain cagey about the other folks... and the fact
that the dabus and the Lady herself are occasionally seen
floating about makes the place even more
It's easy enough to tell when
you're out of the theoretical boundaries of the Lady's
and arrive in either the Guildhall or Market. As soon as
you cross one street or another, it seems as though out
of nowhere a wave of people sweep you into their sea.
Oddly, much like the city of Dis on Baator, if you look
back across the street, you'd think there's miles of
people between you and the Lady's.
The dust hangs heavy in the air
about this time of day, and the announcment that "rain
and fog are on the way" from Erish's
Weather Tower almost seem
like a joke, like he's constantly pointing out the
obvious to us all. A cutter swift enough can tell if
rain's coming, just by how much the dust sticks to their
clothes... on a rainy day, it sticks more. Either way, it
usually is rather humid in the streets of the Market...
what with everyone walking elbow to elbow, pushing and
pulling. The smells of sweat and sometimes blood hang in
the air around this time of day. It's not a rare site to
see someone get trampled in the chaos that runs about the
streets, or to see a pack of Hardheads descend on some
poor berk just cause he looked at them crooked. Don't get
me wrong, I'm not trying to spread anti-Harmonium
propeganda, it's just that some of 'em are crooked. I've
seen good Hardheads too.
Anyhow, this is the time of day
that crime hits the market hardest. In the middle of the
day, all the scum in the cage descends like a flock
of vultures on the Market... cutting purse strings,
stealing apples, bashing the poor sods that happen to
cross that one dark alley. It's a pity really, and that's
the reason that there's executions almost everyday... the
sods get themselves caught in the act, and being as the
Guvners have enough to do besides wasting their time on
trials for folks caught redhanded, the Hardheads usually
just throw them to the Red Death for judgement. That
judgement is usually quite predictable: death. The
Mercykillers, I've seen, believe that killing a criminal
keeps them from wasting the Justice Wheel's time
again by committing another crime. A bit harsh if ya ask
me... but it's not my place to worry. It's my place to
worry about this dress.
2 and a half
Hours after Peak. Well, I'm
back in the shop now. After wiping the omnipresent dust
off of the window and my desk, I began hitting the needle
and thread pretty hard to make that deva's dress... so
far, I have the general form done. It was all
going well enough, until that prime came back in... with
a ripped shirt, bloody forehead, and reaking like
"Are.. are... my pants completeded?
I'm in bloody need of new pants I is, are they
"No, I haven't gotten there yet
actually. I'm busy, come back later." I grabbed for my
sheers... forged on Bytopia, they could cut through metal
I was told.
"I needs a new pair of pants,
damned it! I needs new pants!" He began waving
his arms about, and it became obvious that he wasn't in
good shape. I could see he had a big bloody gash on
his chest now, it looked like he was in a
"Listen berk, when I get them done,
I get them done. Come back tomorrow. Take a bit of advice
too: when you leave the shop, go right across the street.
There's a good place to sleep there... an' you can come
right back tomorrow morning for your pants."
"But I need 'em now!" he
stumbled forward, and crashed onto the floor,
I walked across the street to Mrs.
Bailey's Boarding, where Ol' Mrs. Bailey sent a couple
servant boys across the way to get rid of the prime. They
probably stripped him clean of his jink too, but that's
his own fault for getting himself all barmy. At least
that's a pair of pants I won't have to make, he won't
remember to come back across the way if he wakes up...
that was quite a bump he had on his head.
4 hours After
Peak. After that little bit
with that prime, the day finally passed for a few
uneventful hours. A few people walked in and looked
around, one left a message that he needed pants, but
otherwise I got a few more good hours in on her dress.
The body of it is pretty much done, except for a few
little details and the gold fiber... which shouldn't take
all that long.
Having gotten alot done, I decided
to take a bit of a break... it's been a rather slow day,
what with just one trouble maker, one dress, and only a
few shirts on backorder. At times like this
I usually take a walk across to Mrs. Bailey's, she
was like a mother to me when I moved in here so long ago,
and we usually share a drink. I also have the reason of
that sod that crashed in my shop earlier... he's not
going to be able to pay Ol' Mrs. B., so I'll have to
Walking across Copperman from my
shop, you come to a three story, blue plaster building
with a large oaken sign hanging out front that reads,
obviously enough, Mrs. Bailey's Boarding in big white
Mrs. Bailey herself is an old
Aasimar who's been helping folks in the Cage out with
their problems, giving them board, and just being nice
for something like sixty years now. Her age is just
starting to show, though one can only guess as to what
that age really is... she looks like a healthy 70 year
old human. She has a bit of short black hair that falls
about her ears, and is almost wrinkle free skin except
for her strong laugh lines. Her almost pointed nose sits
below her old brown eyes. She wears an apron most of the
time, being as she cooks every meal that a body eats in
her house, and her hands are literally fireproof from all
the burns she's recieved over the years.
Upon walking in, one of her
bellhops (who are rumored are all her grandchildren)
escorted me in to the back, to her living quarters, where
she lay on her couch resting quietly. Mrs. B's quarters
are actually quite nice, unlike my own. The one
downstairs room is quite spacious, with a table and four
chairs with a nice silk cloth on it, a long couch, and
several chairs around the room... attesting to the fact
that she has plenty of relatives. As well, there's a
picture of her father and mother both hanging on the wall
next to each other, above a fireplace. By my standards,
Mrs. B. and her family are pretty well off.
"Hello Mrs. B., how are you?"
Her mother, as I came to know, originally came from a
Prime world where noone ever came out and said directly
what was on their mind, a trait Mrs. Bailey had herself.
Small talk was standard in a conversation with her before
the point became clear.
"Ahh, hello Jaimi, I'm fine... and
how are you today?" She looked up with a smile... she was
always happy to talk to anyone but her relatives, which
she had many of. Another trait from her home world was
that a family showed it's love of one another by how much
they were at eachother's throats.
"Well enough thanks, except for
this dress I have to work on, it's sodding awful
"I know the feeling Jaimi, I know
the feeling. Who's it for anyway?"
"Oh, some deva... but she's paying
quite a bit of jink for it, so she says. That's why
I came over actually, to tell you I'm finally going
to pay that debt I owe your husband, now that I'm prolly
going to have the coin for it." Her husband, an
explorer, has been wayward for 3 years... and I don't owe
him a debt. Thing is, she wouldn't accept money from
me to care for that prime I sent over... so that was
my way of slipping it in.
"You owe him a debt, eh? What
"Oh, he picked up a bit of cloth
for me on Elysium a long time ago, and I promised I'd pay
him. I can't reneg on my word now, can I?"
"Well, of coarse not, a woman's
word is her dignity... if there wasn't trust, there'd be
"How true, how true."
"Now then littlun," she calls
me that on occasion... I've gathered that she's quite a
bit older than I am, so I don't say anything "How
about a spot of tea, or coffee? I have some lovely
stuff a prime had Clarion
give to me..."
"Sure, why not? I've got a bit
of time, but not long... I have to finish that
dress. I don't want to be the one to anger an angel now,
"No littlun, you don't. Angels can
get pretty angry I hear." She chuckled a bit, and
put on the coffee.
5 and a quarter
Hours after Peak. After a
bit of coffee with Mrs. Bailey, and no mention of the
prime, I went back to the shop. There was still no
mention of new business when I got back, a good thing
too... I won't be able to give any attention to new
orders until tomorrow anyway. After a bit of work, I
think it'll be time for a bit more exercise.
6 and a half
Hours after Peak. It's
about time to get out now then. I finished up the
dress in it's entirety now, except for the gold. I'm off
to get a bit to eat at Imel's, and if I'm lucky enough to
find one (it's the first of the week, and they sell like
hotcakes around the market), I'll pick up a
S.I.G.I.S. on the way.
Imel's Happy Tongue: Sigil at Dusk.
Walking around now, just
between Peak and Anti, is the second best time of day for
traffic in Sigil, the first being the early morning. Most
folks are either at home or at some restaurant eating, or
out back of one scraping for food. The lightboys are
coming back out now, though not so much in the market.
They start in the Hive and Lower, and work their ways
over through the Guildhall, the Clerks, and the Market,
finishing in the Lady's. I figure they start in the
darkest wards and work their ways over, being as there's
plenty of light coming from store windows, we don't need
it as much.
Anyhow, the very short walk down
Copperman to the Happy Tongue shows more of Sigil than
one would think, the collectors for example. They're out
in force in the Market around now, clearing up the trash
folks left behind to pawn for food. As wretched as they
are, they perform a service in doing so... they keep the
streets clean, though the term is relative. They own only
the clothes on their backs, and don't have so much as a
stinger to their names. They live from day to day,
gleaning what they can from society's caring folk, and
from whatever they gather from the streets and other
places they go to. A creepy lot, they are.
As well, a body might notice about
now that the fog seams to be getting a little bit heavier
about now... it's kind of a dramatic thing the City does
to tell us all nightfall is on it's way. Sigil's
trademark fog is probably the thickest in the multiverse,
and no prime is said to be able to handle it at this
hour... so for the most part, only Cagers (and folks used
to the air) prowl the streets about now. That, in
turn, means that the Takers and Hardheads aren't out as
much either, as there's not as many berks to arrest for
no reason or tax unnecessarily. In turn, the more chaotic
factions run about more, as the Law isn't out heavily to
stop them; Indeps go about business outside the Bazaar,
Anarchists do whatever it is they do,and Xaositects, if
they care to at the time, move out of the Hive for their
nightly jaunts of chaos.
Well, anyhow, the doors of the
Happy Tongue loom ahead... I'm off to eat.
Until Antipeak. I decided I
was out of the shop enough today, so I decided to get my
food and bring it back. A bite of Krigalan Black and a
loaf of bread with a spot of wine are tonite's delicacy.
After having a bit of the cheese and bread and just a
little wine, I started back at the needle... enough
procrastination, it was time to finish the dress. Alas,
just as I was about to start, in popped a Githzerai...
without pants, just undershorts.
"Pants need I," was all that
came out of his mouth, and he bugged out his eyes at me
like a frog.
"Were you the one who left the
"Me was it, yes. Pair new a me make
you can?" He sounded like a new recruit to the
"Yes, surely... I can have them
done for you by Peak tomorrow. Would you please write
your name on this paper for me?"
"Problem no, righto..." he
wrote his name, which read John Thomas Leonard the 4th,
Esquire. He looked up, and with a bit of embarassment he
whispered, "Talker dyslexic a I am. World his visiting
was I when me on put prime a curse a is it. It shake
not can just I." He laughed maniacally for a moment,
then started to walk out, but before he left, he was sure
to add, "Peak at back be I'll."
With that, the 'dyslexic talker'
walked out, and I sat there a bit confounded by it...
there really are a bunch of barmy savages in this town.
Either way, it's a pair of pants to make.
3 and a half
Hours until Antipeak. I'm
finally finished! The dress is completely done, now all
that's left to be done are seven gnomish shirts and a
pair of pants for a dyslexicly speaking gith. Is it break
time again? Ya, I think so. I think a trip over to
is in order as soon as she comes to pick it
3 Hours until
Antipeak. With three hours
left in the day, she showed back up, to claim her dress,
which is quite a piece of work, and it didn't cost all
that much to make either.
"Hello again Miss Bimkz, did you
happen to complete my gown for tonite?" Those were the
exact words she said, and they sounded like
"Yes infact ma'am, I did get it
done... it's hanging in the back if you'd like to have a
bit of a look."
"Sure, lead the way."
I led her into the back room, where
her dress hung on the wooden frame of a human
manican. She went up to it, and examined it very
carefully. I was quite nervous the whole time, being that
my work was under the scrutiny of a deva, but I stayed
quiet. Eventually, she asked,
"What kind of thread did you sow
"Standard cotton, why?"
"Hmm... well, it'll do
I suppose, but I wanted it done with Bonespear silk,
the quality is a bit better. Anyhow, there's no time for
that I realize, so I'll take it. Thanks much Miss
"Bonespear silk costs an astronomic
amount... and I don't believe you said you wanted it that
way." I was a bit indignant, it's not a good feeling
to have your day's work ridiculed over an unmentioned
"That's why, of coarse, I was
willing to pay so much... I thought you'd have
known. I'm sorry. It's a lovely dress still, thank you.
Would you be able to wrap it up for
"Yes, of coarse. Thank you
In silence, I wrapped it up...
knowing I wasn't going to get 200 jinx for the effort.
That's the way it goes though I guess. I brought it back
to her out front, and she put a bag (much smaller than
before) on the counter. With a nod and a smile, she
1 and a half
Hours until Antipeak. Well,
I'm in the middle of my walk home now. I didn't hit
Chirper's after all, not enough jink for her. I'm almost
halfway there, and the day's grime is thickest in the
streets about now, before the dabus and collectors come
out to clean. For you curious cutters out there, I ended
up with only 30 jinx in my palm, which is nothing to
sneeze at, but at the same time isn't nearly as much as
the effort was worth. I put off a whole day of work to do
that dress, and 30 jinx isn't all that much to show for
it. I probably could've got more from the gnomes. Anyhow,
"No use crying over spilt milk" is what my mother
Home: Sigil at Night.
Sigil at night is alot like Sigil in the morning. Not in
that everyone's asleep, they aren't. The highups are out
at their parties, the visiters and primes've for the most
part put in for the night, and sedan chairs (which cause
bad traffic problems) don't operate this late. Only
natives who commute to their jobs or work late are out,
and of coarse, the boys. Right now is their busiest time
of day... a cutter can't walk a block without seeing
The fog is lifting a little, and
the light is like that of twilight... it isn't pitch
black, but it's not too easy to see either. As well, the
lights inside of the various inns and people's houses are
getting turned off around now too... so the streets get
exponentially darker as more people go to sleep. It's
rather important to get home early if you have a long
walk like I do... it's never good to get caught in a
really dark alley, even if you're a native in your own
There's mud and such covering the
street, which is a bit of a hazzard. Sigil is a dirty
place to begin with... this time of day though, it's the
worst. Imagine, if you can, a white carpet in your foyer.
Know how you make folks take their shoes off before they
step on it? Know how dirty and beat it gets if one
person does step on it? Imagine a million people
constantly stepping on it at once. That's kinda what
Sigil's dirt condition is like on a non-raining day's
A half Hour
before Antipeak. Home
again, home again. Now that I'm back in my flat, it's
time to sleep. I hope my take on Sigil has been
informing, because this is how I live.