The cobblestones in the Speaker's Square are worn smooth by generations of feet - arguing, debating, pacing, pausing - the one place in Inkport where people can be free - even if only for a fleeting moment. No one presides from a podium or decrees what can or cannot be said or becomes aggressive. It's like an unspoken rule here.

Some sit on the edge of the central fountain, chatting or debating, some on the surrounding benches to relax from the day's hardships. Along the low eastern wall people congregate when they need to be heard.

"I don't often agree with what people say while here," an old woman says, feeding the pigeons. "But, I'll be darned if I'd let anyone stop it. 'Tis still peaceful here, all told."

"Aye," an elderly man sitting beside her agrees. "Speak your piece. Listen to theirs. Leave 'em to it or leave different 'n when you arrived."