Does she trust her?

No, the mental censor insists, revise that sentence. Make it clearer.

Does she trust her, in both sense of she and both senses of her?

Would [i]she[/i] trust her? 

Because, on the one hand, right, Dyssia has done a lot of good for Mosaic, for the people of Bitemark. She's her sign from the stars, the comet that came right in the nick of time to get her people out.

And also, on the other hand, there's a scrap of fabric that's been carefully ironed in Dyssia's quarters, and a plover with tiger stripes that don't match its neighbors.

And also, third hand, sword, sold, in the process of being.

Which Mosaic doesn't know about. Yet.

Dyssia doesn't flinch at the sniffing, which she counts as a major triumph because--

It's like, maybe Mosaic's nose [i]can't[/i] do all the things the Silver Divers say it can do. Given the things she hears, she'd be amazed if--

They say she can smell your [i]thoughts.[/i] 

Does she already know? 

[i]Should[/i] she trust her?

She doesn't flinch, no, but the hesitation is drawing the moment out longer and longer, and the longer it takes to respond the more it feels like she's winding up a lie.

Does Dyssia [i]want[/i] Mosaic to trust her?

Yes, obviously yes. Wants in a way she'd have difficulty expressing to anybody else? Should probably interrogate that thought at a later time, after she gets out of this room.

Does she want it more than--

"The synnefo approached me," she admits. "Gun's worth more than the planet. He gets the gun, I get to redesignate the planet however I want."

Look at those claws. Tick, tick, tack. 

… Look at that face. Dyssia's not good with faces, she'll be the first to admit it, but the words are sinking in.

"We'd gotten to the point of negotiation where the planet got freed, got given free access to technology and hyperlanes, and nobody else got to fuck with the planet in perpetuity when--"

She gestures at the sword on the table, but her eyes are on Mosaic.

"Well, now the gun's a sword, now the sword's in the space where the synnefo was, now there's bits of wool drifting down and Gemini bearing down on me and saying that's [i]her[/i] sword, give it back and--

"And you [i]know[/i] this sword, don't you? [i]How[/i] do you know this sword? Why do you know it? Where d'you recognize it from? Mosaic, what's going on?"