"You was never fit for a tailor, All-Saints," Da says. He coughs, bends low over the fine suit he was putting seams into. "Knowed it soon as you was old enough to wear long pants. You got too much of your Ma in your blood, boy. They chose her to run up to the Everflame, too, you know."
"Aye, Da, you told me."
"She'd be proud of you. Man can't do better than that, to have the pride of a good woman."
Off in the kitchen, Sandy hears Zalia, his stepmother, snort. She doesn’t say anything this time, though— he hears her settle heavily into a chair. A moment later, he hears the clack and click of her knitting needles and the shuffle of wool yarn being turned into a blanket for his step-brother-to-be.
“Still,” Da says, “it’s a mite silly this whole thing.”
“Eh,” Sandy says, and prepares himself for another lecture.
“No disrespect to your mother, but she always went in for this…sort of romantic flimmflam. I says to her one day— afore she were chosen ‘course— ‘Ygraine,’ says I, ‘Ygraine, this ritual ain’t nought but foolishness. Nought but the aldermen trying to fool the young into steadying straight, same as always been done in Kessan. There’re no gods being prayed at; no offerings given. Now the gods, them I understand! Gimme a god and an altar and a cleric, and I’ll pray you a prayer to stand you up! But this…this is just a foolish walk in the woods to the name of some old soldier man who ain’t never been divine.
“Lo and swear, she jus’ ’bout knocked my head right off my shoulders!” Da cackles. “Hmmm. Hmmm. ’Spect that’s why they chose her. Keep the rest of the runners in line. She was good, your mother. Silly, as I said. Sometimes. No disrespect.”
Sandy nods. He’s two feet from the door. Two feet and he’d be out and on his way to adulthood. Maybe a day, maybe two…he’d be able to sign his own contracts, make his own deals. Sandy clears his throat. “‘Bout time, Da. I got to run.”
“Kiss your stepmother and your baby brother. For luck,” Da says. “‘Spect you believe in that sort of thing. Your mother’s son, you are.”
“‘Bye, Zalia,” Sandy says. She waves him away. No kiss.
Da doesn’t notice, still muttering to himself over the fine suit.
##
Sandy walks the cat road— a line of rooftops running parallel to the street leading to the square in Kassen. The high facades of the buildings fronting the street hid him from the view of anyone walking below. Perfect place for someone who could step quiet and agile to make it from one end of Kassen to the other in a short amount of time. There were a few gaps to be leapt, a few loose slates to avoid, but Sandy had been picking his way over the cat road for ages now. He hardly had to think about it.
Instead, he thinks on the road to the Everflame, and Kassen’s tomb. And he thinks beyond that, so his thoughts range wide across the world.
One day. Maybe two.
He reaches the end of the cat road before he reaches the end of his thoughts, and reluctantly pulls himself from them to take stock of who’s gathered in the square. Kirdo, of course— Sandy grins. It’d be good to work with the gnome for something that wasn’t gold or lumberjack related. Maybe he could ferret out some of the alchemist’s secrets. There’s also a half-elf in leather armor, with a couple short swords at his hip, and a longbow on his back. Sandy doesn’t know his name, but the woman in scale mail armor with the shield and bristling with weapons looks vaguely familiar.
“You look prepared,” Sandy says to her, as he swings down from the roof. “Glad you’re on our team. I’m Sandy Tippenroe.”
