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A couple ruffians of ill intent made the mistake of cornering a Zingaria lady late one night in Zingg. Not heeding the stories of their deadly ways, they boxed her in with daggers drawn. A glance and a double crack left each grasping their throats. Her shawl now hung from her hand and she stood flesh exposed to the cold night air. Their futile attempts to stanch the flow of blood had no effect and they fell lifeless into the dirt before her. A second glance, a sub-vocalized a "tut" was followed by cleaning the razors now exposed in the shawl's edge. Carefully folding them back into their protective leather pockets was followed with a whirl. She was covered again in the modest fashion and soon disappeared into the dusty night. Woe be to the traveller who forgets his place in Zingg, for a dagger does one no good without a throat.

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