"What in Sura-hoon is this Eastern nonsense? No true Raga, not Forebear, not Crown, not Lhotun'man, would ever risk his honor by donning the brass jaques of the Deep Devils. No No No. That's Hi-Na Otokomwen'reh or "even your grandmother's cows weep in hell". As I can tell you, for I am Ansei, all good Raga with honor favor Yoku porcelain, in plate or in scale. The Hatalii whisper that even if a warrior dies badly, if he goes to Tu'Whacca in the porcelain, then he need not hang his head for shame."
"Tua no mongo, no shira? Need you nothing, friend? Do you have everything you could possibly want, you man of honor, Ra-Ansei? Or have the old mluo-crusts of whom you serve taught you nothing of the world; nothing of its ways. No atomo, no tro. Have your sheep-fathers-made-sheep-lovers not yet taught you that Raga honor won't put nukri-mluo in your pockets and the pretty women in the same places? Ha! Silly Ansei! Honor is a fine thing to hold when you are already holding much already! You are quick to blow your gold trumpet of your life made way, so I will do the same with no go tukta, no less good the reason. I am the Ansu-duptra, good Ansei. I am he who is made restless, and for that I do not blame you more than Sep would his itchy tummy. Mongora trai tukta do dura? You need the truth about those you call the Deep Devils? Those easterners who cannot stop throwing just as the northerners cannot stop shouting just as the not-so-easterners cannot stop dancing. The truth is in the coin, silly, and the coin is the truth of everything, the truth of T'Ra-mitana. So please Go-Ansei, good saint if you have friends who seek a Devil's golden husk, look me up on Stros M'kai where the moonlight shows least, the heat makes way, and waves sing their not-so-worst songs. And please do not begrudge an old pirate for his older ways! And if you should find me, make sure your memories-in-stone are deep-in-pocket, as my crafty Raga hands are quick and skilled, as any pretty tavern girl will tell you."