The Teller of Small Fortunes

by Julie Leong

“Greetings to the people of Necker!” she cried out into the general bafflement. “I am Tao, Teller of Small Fortunes.”

You must always meet the eyes of those speaking to you, or they’ll think you’re stupid.

Everyone deserves a home, Tao thought, patting Laohu’s whiskery grey nose. And what was a home but somewhere you wouldn’t have to feel quite so alone?

The easy joy of being a child, secure in the knowledge that she was loved. The feeling that she belonged.

“There’s worse things than loneliness in this world,” said Tao quietly.

not being something is not quite the same thing as being something, is it?

“A troll,” repeated Mash grimly, hefting his mace out of its belt loop. “Did it attack you? Threaten violence; seize your goods?” “Eh? No, of course not. It’s worse than that,” said the farmer. “It went and philosophized at us!”

“Kina,” said Tao thoughtfully, her spoon of lentils paused midair. “If Silt’s a macaron, what sort of pastry would I be?” “A canelé, obviously.”