When he asked about the t'mat and the zemai, she nodded her head and smiled. "I think you call t'mat tomatoes, and zemai is like a..." she clicked her fingers as she tried to think of the word she wanted. "Maze or wheat, I think is what you call it. We have squashes too, as they grow low to the ground." She told him, and shrugged, "It is good food, and whatever meat we can catch from wild boars to the large lizards who lay out in the sun." She smiled, thinking of how good that tasted over a spit.
When he claimed he had not thought about them having black and silver smiths. She smirked, though it did not touch her eyes. "You are not the first to think us just as barbarians with no culture." She told him, but she quickly held up her hand. "I mean no disrespect, I owe you no toh for my words. Just since coming here, that is the way I have been treated." She looked back down to the grass, her hand still running over the fat, plump blades there. She looked up at him, and offered a small smile. "I did not think any Wetlanders had honour, but since coming here I have found some of you do." She told him, hoping she took her meaning that he was included in that statement.