“Hey mister, you all right?” a voice intruded, calling him back. Cade was surprised to find that his two hands were held high above his head, making futile grasping motions in the air … searching for a neck to grasp? Or begging for relief from pain? He couldn’t understand what his actions meant. He didn’t care, not anymore. He dropped his arms to his sides and turned to face the speaker.
It was a boy, young, barely into his teens. He wore little more than a stained loincloth. His ribs were sticking out, though he had large shoul- ders, and his legs were well-muscled. He also wore a wicked-looking knife at his side.
“What do you want?” Cade asked. It came as another shock to realize he had been wandering about for several hours, his mind caught in its mad reverie, a dangerous thing to do in Sanctuary.
“I, I just wanted to know if you were all right,” the boy answered. Cade looked at him again. He was Ilsigi, dark, dark. His thin chest had several scars, but he seemed in good health, if underfed. And he met Cade’s eyes.
“Kindness?” Cade asked. “Or are you looking for something, boy?”
“Neither, who knows. Just asked.” The boy’s voice turned hard. “Sorry I bothered you, pud,” and he moved away, not quite showing his back to Cade.
“Wait!” Cade said. “Wait.” He moved to catch up to the boy, but the youth kept his distance. “Who are you?”
“What’s it to you?” The boy crouched a bit, his body tense. Not wor- ried yet, but definitely wary. Cade threw the boy a silver piece which the lad caught deftly.