“One day he rowed too far out and the wind took him. A Garwater scout found him and stole his cargo and debated whether or not to kill him, terrified, skinny little fisherboy. In the end they took him back to the city.” His fingers shifted, and he began gently to massage his own hands. “People are made and broken and remade by their circumstances,” he said. “Within three years the boy ruled Garwater.” He smiled.
