“What do they think I am?” Iris asked helplessly. “I’m just me.” Mila hesitated. “It is not the Trader’s legend. Traders are wanderers. Any stories we make, we leave behind. Our wisdom is in letting go. But these people . . . they have old stories, far older than any others. It is not for me to tell you who you are.” “But is it for them?” The line between Mila’s eyes deepened. “Let us hope so.”
